Broken Open
by LoveTheCoat
Summary: It's 2012, and eight years have passed since Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor have seen or talked to each other. Both men are living their own lives and are successful and happy; or so they think. What happens when, in a bizarre turn of events and in a city far from either place the men respectively call home, the two run into each other? *What If/AU - Canon thru first half of ep5.1*
1. Broken Pieces, Pt I

"_broken pieces, break into me,  
__showing perfectly what you should be"_

**September 2012  
**BRIAN**  
**

The first thing that went through Brian's mind when he saw him, after the unexpected piercing pain in his abdomen subsided and he could form coherent thoughts, was that his blonde hair was a little longer and a tad darker than it used to be. The next thing that went through his mind was how badly he wanted to reach out and touch said hair; how badly he wanted to run his fingers through it. The yearning to feel its silky smoothness in his fingers an almost primal urge. The desire to smell the minty shampoo that he'd always associated with him (so much so that he had to stop buying any kind of bath products that were similarly scented) making him dizzy.

It was Brian's last night in Boston. He was there on Kinnetik business, schmoozing a potential new client and after several days of successful meetings, expensive dinners (on Kinnetik of course), and lavish gifts (also on Kinnetik), Jerome Farraday finally agreed to sign on. Brian was thrilled. Farraday would be his first Boston client, and also the first company on his long and impressive client list that was in the music business…well, sort of the music business. Farraday was a designer and producer of custom guitars and select other string instruments. He was music business-adjacent in that several well-known and respected musicians purchased their instruments only from Farraday's company. His business would give Kinnetik a foothold in Boston, and that was all Brian really wanted. He had conquered Pittsburgh, and Philly, and Baltimore, and DC, and New York. Boston was the last great holdout in the northeast (as far as Brian was concerned) and with Jerome signing Brian could turn his focus on moving Kinnetik west. He already had a stake in Chicago with his long history with Brown Athletics, but he wanted more than that – he wanted to go all the way to the West Coast. As he regularly reminded himself - what was the fucking point of being successful if his name wasn't equated with success and if every new graduate in advertising didn't want to work for, or strive to be, Brian Kinney?

No, he wouldn't settle until he had contracts and clients in every state and country in North America, and after that, the world.

Jerome Farraday, along with being an instrument-maker, was also a season ticket holder to the Boston Symphony. After the contracts were signed (the ink barely dry) he had invited Brian to come out and see the Symphony with him. They were premiering a new show that would be running for a few months, featuring a visiting violinist, and the opening gala was that evening. Brian, not feeling it would be appropriate to tell Jerome how much he despised certain orchestral music – rather, violins – agreed to go. He knew he needed to foster the fledgling business relationship and he didn't figure it'd be too hard to listen to one of the top Orchestra's in the nation (maybe even the world) perform. It was a small price to pay for earning Farraday's business.

In the end it wasn't bad. In fact Brian actually enjoyed himself. He'd forgotten how much power and emotion the brass instruments could convey and he found himself eager to get back home and put on some selections from his varied jazz collection. He was also reminded of how music could speak to him and pretty quickly he forgot about the contract and his dislike of violins and he simply let the music wash over him.

The gala afterwards was full of well dressed people sipping champagne and eating tiny hors d'ouevres and speaking of the music as if they were the first to have ever heard or discover it. It was incredibly pretentious and Brian had to work to control his expression, each passing moment affording him the joy of overhearing comment after comment from these people who thought quite highly of themselves.

He struggled to find someone, anyone, "normal" he could converse with but not only was he surrounded by many of Boston's elite, but he was also surrounded by some of the most talented musicians in the world. He found himself inevitably fumbling over his words as he tried to make small talk about something he knew next to nothing about. Sure he was a fan of jazz, but no expert. And while he'd taken some guitar lessons in High School, having saved up money over the summer to buy the instrument himself, Jack had smashed the thing one night in a drunken-rage and Brian hadn't bothered again. Neither thing qualified him to have much of a conversation with any of these musicians. And so it was, as Brian was chatting with a cellist trying to sound the least bit educated about orchestral music, that Justin suddenly appeared.

Brian knew it was him immediately, even though his back was to him. Brian didn't need to see his face to recognize the narrow waist and bubble butt; he'd spend years worshiping both (and much more).

Though he'd spent four years admiring the younger man's shape, form and function, it had been twice as many yearssince Brian had set eyes on him._ S_eeing him suddenly again was as unexpected as anything Brian could possibly imagine, and the passage of all that time didn't stop the paralyzing wave of memories mixed with unresolved emotions and intense feelings that he'd long since buried (in a hasty attempt to forget) from growing to tsunami proportions. It took him by surprise and he really had no idea how to control it all – how do you rein in a tidal wave of emotion?

If he'd known to expect him, if he'd know he'd _ever_ see him again, he'd have been prepared. But to have it happen so unexpectedly was making it quite difficult for him to control his visceral reaction; shock and fear mixed with overwhelming attraction and desire – they were things he'd always felt about Justin and things he now thought he'd likely never stop feeling about him. But knowing that didn't make seeing him any easier to handle; it made it worse actually. Because Brian didn't want to feel anything and now that he knew his attempts to put Justin behind him were for naught, he wasn't sure what to do.

Heart rate climbing exponentially, Brian's stomach twisted and knotted painfully. He could feel an uncomfortable heat creep up his neck; he was breathless, his mouth was slightly agape; his eyes felt wide and panicked. To say it was unexpected to see him would be an understatement of epic proportions.

"Uh, are you okay?" the cellist who stood in front of Brian asked, though the words sounded like they were spoken underwater – a kind of thick, slow-motion drawl.

"Yep," Brian nodded once, though he was anything but okay. He ignored the look of disbelief on the cellist's face.

"I'll get you some water," she said slowly, heading towards the bar. Brian ignored her, his eyes still focused on Justin's back.

_Get a grip,_ he told himself and by sheer force of will he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to calm himself.

Slowly the sounds in the room resumed their normal levels and slowly the tingling sensations in Brian's arms and legs faded. When he'd collected himself enough he found he was quite grateful he had seen Justin first. It allowed him to react and then regain his composure. Brian had never even considered the chance that he'd ever see Justin again. They still shared a few friends, but their lives were as separate and distinct from the other that there really was no danger of a chance meeting ever occurring. Yet there he was.

Justin was right there, just a few feet from Brian. If he took a couple steps forward he could reach out and touch him.

Shit!

As suddenly as he wanted him in his arms, Brian wanted out of there. He needed to disappear before Justin saw him because though it had been eight years he knew how Justin would react and Brian was not prepared to deal with that deep well of emotion. Not prepared at all. No, it was better to get the fuck out of there before he was sighted. It was better that Brian forget the night entirely, and shove all his unresolved feelings and emotions back into the deep, dark corner of his heart where they'd been lying dormant all this time.

Better to get the fuck out of dodge…

Stealing one last look Brian was about to turn and head for the door when he heard Justin's name called from behind him. As if in slow motion Brian watched, frozen in place and powerless to move, as the blonde head swiveled around towards him.

Brian composed himself, best he could, gathering his wits and putting on his best 'mask' even as his heart pounded in his chest and he stared into those blue eyes he used to know so well. Brian didn't know them anymore though, that much was obvious. They were closed off. He tried not to let it get to him when Justin's wide grin, his "sunshine" grin, faltered and faded while recognition slowly dawned on him.

Brian could still hear someone calling Justin's name from behind him even as Justin's expression betrayed his obvious shock at seeing Brian. When Justin's eyes slipped from Brian's and traveled over his shoulder and back again, Brian suddenly knew. And he didn't want to know. God, he didn't want to know, and he definitely didn't want to see – but he had no choice in the matter. The voice was closer still, just feet away now…

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself – telling himself he needed to be the 'bigger man' – Brian turned towards the voice that was still calling Justin's name, and he saw him.

Ethan Gold.

Wait…was it Ethan? It had looked like Ethan at first glance but as Brian took him in he could see it wasn't Ethan. He was slight like Ethan had been, and he had dark, curly hair like Ethan had, but this guy was not that other damned violinist. Brian felt relief flood through him before it was slowly replaced by an unexpected and rather dreaded pit of jealousy.

Though Brian thought of Justin very rarely, when he did he purposefully never thought of him actually being with someone. It was too hard to think about and now, being faced with it he was learning it was even more of an unexpected hurt to see, to be faced with so surprisingly. Suddenly the ache in Brian's gut wasn't just from seeing Justin, but of knowing another man was touching him, caressing him, running fingers through his hair; fucking him.

It was stupid – because what did Brian expect? Of course Justin would find someone.

Brian stood there, dumbly staring as the other man came to a stop and smiled pleasantly at Brian.

"Hello," the guy wore an expression of amused bewilderment as he smiled and examined Brian's face as if he saw something there that Brian didn't intend to show. It made Brian nervous, and he felt his mask slip a little.

Brian didn't answer, catching movement out of the corner of his eye and turning his head just in time to watch as Justin sidled up to the man's side, kissing his cheek and putting an arm around his waist. Brian couldn't be sure the gesture was for his benefit, because the other man accepted it like it was a common occurrence. Apparently they were out and public, Justin and this…this other man.

Shit. Brian thought he might be sick.

"Justin," Brian smiled warmly, trying to recover some control of the situation and pointedly ignoring the curious stare of the dark-haired man who had his hand on Justin's waist, while also fighting the contents of his stomach boiling up, threatening to reappear, "you look good."

The taste of bile in his mouth was overwhelming and the painful thumping of his heart in his chest told Brian what he already knew but had easily ignored until now – after all, out of sight, out of mind. But he still had intense unresolved emotions about him; fuck if he didn't still love the little shit. And it hurt more than anything else in his life hurt because Justin was right there, just a few fucking feet away. But Brian couldn't touch him; or kiss him; or even smile at him the way he'd used to. He'd lost all those rights. And for what? He couldn't reason out why, now, even though it had seemed to make sense at the time…

"Thanks," Justin's tone wasn't angry or brash but Brian would have preferred that to the cold, distant, detached way he spoke. It made Brian want to disappear. Fuck he wanted to disappear. Justin had every right to hate him, to never speak to him again. Brian didn't blame him one fucking bit. In fact he had hoped for some anger because that would indicate he still cared even a little. But there was nothing. Just the look of a man who seemed to be staring upon a stranger and God-damn if it didn't cut him to the quick.

"Brian! I see you've met Aaron, the visiting violinist," Jerome appeared by Brian's side suddenly, and never was he happier to see a straight man in his life. Brian watched Justin visibly transform, shoulders moving back and a smile crossing his features. Not quite a 'sunshine' grin, but one that looked fairly authentic, if you didn't know him well enough to see its falseness. Brian wasn't sure if he should be happy that he could still tell the difference after eight years.

"Yes," Brian answered, moving his eyes quite reluctantly back to the smooth-faced features of the other man, Aaron. It wasn't Ethan, but it was another fucking violinist. What the hell, Justin!

Aaron was attractive guy, there was no question about it. Now that the shock had worn off and he could take him in properly. Very attractive; Brian wasn't sure any man or woman alive wouldn't agree. His eyes, a deep green, had a twinkle in them and two deep dimples appeared in his cheeks as he smiled once again, flashing straight and pearly white teeth.

"Aaron Ashland," he said, removing his right hand from Justin's waist and holding it out. Brian watched his own hand slowly travel out and grasp his. Aaron's hand was warm from being against Justin's body and Brian felt a flush creep up his neck. He let go quickly and avoided Justin's cold look.

"I hope you've been praising his skills. He's quite wonderful, no?" Jerome gushed.

"No," Brian nodded, feeling for one of the rare moments in his life, completely out of sorts and uncertain of himself. "I mean, yes, he was…is quite wonderful. Very talented."

Aaron smiled widely and nodded his thanks. Brian let his eyes flicker briefly to land on Justin where he saw an expression on his face that betrayed his own confusion, and amusement, and discomfort. Brian wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of there.

"I'm trying to convince the Symphony here to steal him from L.A., but I'm told Mr. Ashland won't leave Los Angeles," Jerome laughed but Brian saw Justin's expression cloud slightly.

_Los Angeles, _Brian thought with a small smile_. So Justin was still there. Probably a fucking success by now. Good; maybe it all hadn't been for nothing then._

"No sir," Aaron glanced sidelong at Justin before he turned to face Brian and Jerome again, "not leaving Los Angeles."

"Ah, well," Jerome sighed, "Brian, come, I'd like you to meet some people."

"Sure, just give me one minute?" Brian smiled, the tightness in his chest increasing as he did his best to ignore the stares of Justin and…and Aaron.

Jerome nodded and wandered off to join a large group of people which included the cellist Brian had frightened away moments ago. Fuck. Brian quietly sighed before he turned back to face Aaron and Justin. They were both staring at him with expectant expressions, Justin's a little harsher than Aaron's, and Brian wondered what he could say; what he should say. Was there anything _to_ say? It didn't appear as if Justin wanted or needed anything from him. But fuck if he didn't feel like _he_ needed something from Justin – but what that might be, Brian had no clue. Absolution? Forgiveness?

For a time Brian had known Justin better than anyone, and Brian knew he was likely crawling out of his skin to get some kind of explanation or apology from him. Anything. Justin had always wanted that from the start. He'd desired nothing more than some recognition of his value to Brian and Brian had never given it; or rather, he'd rarely given it and when he had it had always been begrudgingly. Did Justin even care anymore? Looking at him Brian found it hard to believe he did, and Brian knew he had no one to blame but himself.

What was even funnier, ironically, was that Brian _wanted_ to say something; to explain the events of eight years ago. Or at least explain it as best he could – because there really was no excuse for his behavior. But with Aaron there he couldn't. He wouldn't. He'd lost his right, and his chance. And Justin didn't look at all interested in anything Brian had to say anyway.

"So you're still in LA," Brian finally said and Justin just nodded, his face like stone. Unmoving and showing no emotion.

"I'm glad you appear to be doing well," Brian looked between them. His entire chest was in a vice grip and he was finding it hard to breathe it hurt so much. It was his penance, he supposed.

Brian wasn't deluding himself to think that Justin had spent the last eight years in some kind of miserable funk from what Brian had done – but Brian also wasn't so delusional to think Justin had gotten over it right away, either. And like seeing Justin had stirred long buried (and ignored) emotions and feelings inside Brian, he could only assume the same was true for Justin. That Brian's presence was dredging up old shit he'd long buried.

"Well. Take care of yourself," Brian said softly allowing himself one last long look at Justin before he turned from him and Aaron and wandered over to where Jerome was more than happy to introduce him to more musicians.

Brian didn't see Justin or Aaron again that night. He suspected they left soon after their encounter. The following morning Brian flew back to New York with a new client, but he couldn't celebrate, not really.

The damage had been done. The safe door had been cracked wide open and its contents ransacked and laid bare for examination. There was no more avoiding the feelings he'd so effortlessly put away all those years ago.

The house of cards had fallen and Brian wasn't so sure it'd be as easy to pick up the pieces this time.

* * *

**A/N: Inspiration for this fic courtesy of Adam Lambert. Check out "Broken Open", /F1kycPLCpW0.**


	2. Back Out In The Cold

_"i don't want you to go  
don't wanna see you back out in the cold"_

****Brian**  
January 2005**

"You're a fucking shit, you know that?"

Brian was silent; he knew.

"He's heartbroken. He's devastated. Fuck, Brian! What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you do this to him?"

That was something Brian didn't know. Well, that's not entirely true. He did know. He was letting Justin go. It was something he should have done the minute Justin told him about the opportunity Brett Keller had given him. He'd been weak, though, selfish. He'd wanted to hold on to him just a bit longer. And he wasn't entirely sure Justin would have decided not to go after all; plus, after the way Brian had kicked him out when he'd learned of the cancer…well, he didn't have the strength or the courage to be that cruel once again. So he'd waited, and strung him along all the while knowing he was going to break his heart in the most cruel way…and now he was experiencing the first aftershocks of his decision. He'd ripped off the band-aid far too soon and now they were all bleeding freely.

Hell, it's not like he wanted to let Justin go; he didn't, not really. But he knew if he held on to him he'd only be holding him back, and Brian would never be the reason Justin didn't live out his dreams or fulfill his true potential. Justin, in Brian's mind, couldn't reach his full potential if he was worried about Brian; if he was concerned about making sure they visited, and talked, and maintained some sort of contact. That would simply be prolonging the inevitable.

Brian wanted him to be free, to live his life unencumbered and unattached. He was trying to give Justin wings to fly. To be a fucking success, free from Brian and all the emotional baggage he made Justin carry. Brian knew how he'd treated Justin most of the time was deplorable, especially early on in their "relationship". Even more recently he was unnecessarily dismissive and cruel to him for no real good reason. But even with that knowledge he still thought he knew better what Justin wanted, and needed. What Justin should do with his LA opportunity. Hell, he'd had to throw Justin a going-away party just to "prove" that he was "okay" with Justin going.

Looking back now, though, Brian saw the fatal flaw in his plan. He should have ripped off the band-aid right away…not let it fester and grab a tighter hold. He should not have let Justin think there was hope for them long-distance. That would be his greatest regret, Brian knew that now. It was just such a fucked up situation – everything that had happened from the moment he'd crossed that damned, icy finish line for the Liberty Ride seemed to be moments and scenes from someone else's life. It was unrecognizable, but it hadn't been unpleasant.

Suddenly it was unpleasant.

When he'd asked Justin to move back in he hadn't actually thought there'd be any pause or question as to what the other man's response would be. But when Justin didn't answer right away, when he didn't leap from the stool and throw his arms around Brian's neck, Brian knew there was something else going on. It had only taken a few minutes of prodding before the entire situation was laid bare – and though it wasn't Justin's fault, Brian immediately felt the fool. He'd put himself out there (as much as he could anyway) and by asking Justin to move in he'd opened himself up more than he ever had before and he felt stupid for it. The days following Justin's revelation of the job offer were a little rough. Brian would disappear into the backroom at Babylon for hours at a time, letting guy after guy suck him off, and he and Justin only fucked twice. Justin stayed at Daphne's almost every night, and they didn't talk much, if at all. It was awkward and everyone noticed – though only Michael and Ted had the balls to try and ask Brian what the hell was going on, and they both got brutally rebuffed for their efforts.

Brian hated feeling the way he did. He was jealous, and angry, and embarrassed, and disappointed and scared; though he expressed none of that outwardly. What it boiled down to was Brian wanted Justin around, and Justin – for all his carrying on for years about Brian's lack of committing – was now balking at the idea – at least that was how it felt. And for what? It was just like Brian had always thought – love muddied the waters. Emotions and attachment were dangerous. But it was too late, and he knew it, and he hated himself a little for it. Brian had let himself start to buy into the fantasy, he'd let himself relax in the comfort and familiarity of Justin's affections. He'd let himself begin to recognize and identify and most dangerously, accept the way Justin made him feel. Justin had wormed his way so far into Brian's heart and soul and as a result his announcement left Brian feeling the same sort of panic that Justin must have felt when Brian had announced (years ago) he was moving to New York City.

Finally though, Brian came to realize what a chance this would be for Justin, and he'd swallowed his fucking pride and talked to him – told him he should go, that he _needed_ to go. Looking back, he supposed that was when the seed of the idea had been planted because if Justin was out of sight, it'd be a hell of a lot easier to cut him off, to kick him out of his life and let him live and experience everything he should as a young gay man just entering his prime. Hell, he wasn't even 22 years old yet! Brian would not be the reason he never got to explore his sexuality – outside of Brian and Babylon and the fucking Pittsburgh scene. This was his chance to learn for himself everything that knowing and loving Brian had robbed him of. Namely, his youth.

"What are you trying to achieve by doing this?" Lindsay's question was voiced softly, gently, and there was a long silence between them that was thick with unspoken words.

"Because from where I sit you're only going to succeed in making both of you miserable," Lindsay finally added, breaking the silence. Brian could hear the expectation in her voice – she was desperate for him to say something.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" Lindsay's tone sharpened slightly, her anger and disappointment thinly veiled.

Brian was glad she was defending Justin, that she felt injured on Justin's behalf. Justin would need her, and the others. He deserved their friendship, Brian did not.

She sighed deeply when he still said nothing.

"Fine. You know what, Brian? Fuck you. You don't deserve him anyway."

The line went dead then and Brian gently set his cordless receiver back onto the base. He felt unnaturally warm and uncomfortable in his own skin. He desperately wanted to do…something…but fuck if he knew what. For the first time he thought he might have gone too far. For the first time he wondered if maybe he'd made an awful mistake.

It was true, though, what Lindsay had said. Brian didn't deserve Justin. Really, that was kind of the entire point.

* * *

What had started as a three month pre-production gig quickly turned to a six month gig when Brett Keller asked Justin to stay on for Production and filming. Then the six month gig was extended a few more weeks for post-production which apparently still required Justin's presence. In the end, Justin left Pittsburgh in early April of 2004 and by the time the movie was nearing completion, in November, Brian hadn't seen him once.

Brian had known when Justin had left, just one month after the Liberty Ride, that the chances of him returning were slim to none (who'd come back to Pittsburgh after being in Los Angeles?). When Justin called to tell him they were behind schedule and he'd have to stay longer, Brian had canceled his plans to fly out and surprise him. Then, when Justin called again* to tell Brian he'd be staying even longer as he'd been recruited to work on production Brian had verbally patted him on the back before hanging up the phone and consciously beginning the process of letting him go. He hadn't known it would be as hard as it turned out to be and the only saving grace of the entire situation was the fact that Justin was across the country and out of sight. It was easier to put him out of mind that way, though just barely.

Justin still called several times a week. Sometimes Brian would avoid his calls on purpose, but not always. Brian assumed if Justin got suspicious of his intentions to cut all ties and let him go, the blonde might fly back to Pittsburgh and never leave again and Brian didn't want that. He would not be the reason Justin gave up what could be a fantastic opportunity; Brian wouldn't be the reason Justin wasn't a fucking fabulous success. So he played along, just enough so Justin wouldn't get suspicious while also planning the moment when he'd officially cut ties and let him go.

The last phone conversation they had was the night before Brian was to fly to California for the red carpet premiere of _Rage! The Movie_.

The film was scheduled for release just after the new year and while Justin had wanted Brian to come out to California early to spend New Year's Eve with him. Brian was able to convince him he couldn't leave Kinnetik, and that he'd already made plans to watch Gus while Lindsay and Melanie had a much needed night out. The part about not wanting to leave Kinnetik was not true but he did intend to spend the holiday with Gus, his offer to do so coming as a surprise to the lesbians. JR was already with Michael for the holiday, so it just made sense. Plus, Brian wanted the two women to have the time alone to work on their so far unsuccessful reconciliation. Things between them were still very rocky and as much as Brian hated all their drama he wanted Gus to have a stable home and so he found himself complicit and even encouraging in their reunion. Even though the longer it took for them to make up, the less faith Brian had that they actually would…

So New Years Eve came and went, and Brian and Justin had a pretty hot and heavy phone sex session; and that would end up being the last time they'd talk.

For weeks leading up to the premiere, the trip to California was all anyone talked about. So much so that Brian stopped going to the diner, and Woody's, and he avoided his friends when they'd show up at Babylon. It was too hard for him to pretend he was excited or looking forward to the trip and seeing Justin again when he knew he wasn't going to go.

Everyone flew out on January 2nd, the premiere scheduled for a few days later. Brian, who had made up some excuse about Kinnetik business, told everyone he'd meet them at the airport. As the time for the flight approached and his friends started calling him, Brian turned off his cell phone, took the landline off the hook and proceeded to get shit-faced drunk while watching Marlon Brando saunter across his television screen.

A few hours later, as the arrival time for the flight neared, Brian left for Babylon, losing himself in the smooth, muscled bodies of the men he hand-picked to join him in his private VIP area.

When he finally got home, hours later, he turned on his cell phone to find his mailbox full of messages. Lindsay, Michael, Debbie, Emmett, Ted, and Justin had all called him over and over. Brian deleted the messages without listening to a single one.

He managed to avoid everyone's calls for three days before Lindsay finally got a hold of him. He was at Babylon, working in his office just before opening when one of the bartenders told him he had a call about his son. Brain panicked, and accepted the call not thinking it would be a ruse. But when Lindsay started in on him he knew Gus was fine. He was angry with her for the fake-out for about two seconds but it didn't matter. That conversation with Lindsay, one-sided thought it was, was the beginning of the end. Not just for Brian and Justin, but for Brian and everyone.

The regret of his actions was palpable in the days after his conversation with Lindsay. If he were anyone other than himself he would have admitted his mistake and called Justin. But he was Brian-fucking-Kinney and he would not admit to any mistake, or apologize, or let anyone know he felt any regret.

Brian worked long days the rest of the week. He ignored the news of the film premiere and the opening weekend box-office numbers. He was partly afraid of the movie failing, but he was equally afraid of it succeeding. Would Justin return to Pittsburgh of the film failed? Now that Brian had effectively told him to fuck off, why would he? No, Brian was sure he'd stay in L.A. regardless of the success of Rage. Justin had dreams, and ambitions, and a drive to succeed on his own terms. He'd be okay; hell, he'd probably thrive out there in Hollywood.

The Monday after the film's release, when Ted strolled into Brian's office with a look of obvious disappointment on his face, Brian steeled himself for chastising. But Ted didn't say a word. He simply laid a newspaper on Brian's desk, a few sentences circled in bright red ink, then turned and walked out.

The article was about Rage, and the sentences were praise for the art design – which Brian knew Justin was directly responsible for. The rest of the article was a mixed review of the film itself. The critic seemed unsure of how to take the homosexual focus but in the end he was a fairly positive, and even with its seemingly narrow target audience, the film finished 5th in total box office gross that weekend.

Allowing himself one brief moment of pride in Justin's accomplishment, Brian then jammed the newspaper into the shredder and proceeded to crack the whip on his employees for the rest of the week.

After everyone returned from California things slowly worsened for Brian. None of his friends would talk to him, if not for Ted having to deal with him at Kinnetik Brian would have been totally cut off from everyone. Not that Ted talked to him at Kinnetik, unless it was about the business. Not even Lindsay would talk to him. When he'd go over to visit Gus, she'd silently leave them alone and he wouldn't see her again until he'd leave.

Brian didn't blame them. He was glad they were on Justin's side.

He was lonely, but he managed by keeping busy with working, and tricking. Justin was but a random thought to him, and only when he allowed himself to slow down enough to know he was missing a piece of himself. And he was; Justin had taken a small part of him with him to California. A part of Brian that would never be replaced, or grow back. The hollowness was painful at times, but easily dulled by things Brian had within reach; booze, drugs, and men.

The day Jennifer Taylor showed up, though…that was when Brian really began to understand that he might have not handled the situation in the best way. Not that he thought he had handled it that great anyway, but seeing her pain as a reflection of Justin's was almost too much.

Brian was at the loft, preparing for another night "babysitting" the hordes of hot men on the dance floor of Babylon when there was a distinctly sharp and rapt knock on the loft door.

Depositing his cigarette in the ashtray, Brian moved towards the door curious. It had to be someone he knew, someone who had used the access code to get around the door buzzer – which at the moment was a very limited list of people. Everyone was still angry with him and giving him the cold shoulder. Brian suspected Lindsay or Deb had come to attempt to talk him into calling Justin so when he slung open the door and saw Jennifer Taylor he was significantly caught off guard.

"Mother Taylor. What brings you to my doorstep," Brian lazily drawled, though his heart was pounding in his chest. Not since the moment outside her condo, when she'd not so gently told Brian she didn't want him seeing Justin anymore, had he felt such open hostility from her.

No, that wasn't true actually. Back then, outside her home, there had been an undercurrent of sadness and empathy along with the anger. Looking at her now, Brian saw nothing but the anger. Still, she was a proper WASP, so there was a limit to what she would say and do to him. But that almost made it worse. Because it would be what she didn't say and do that would haunt Brian – his imagination of her anger and slight certainly far more devastating than anything she might ever actually say.

"Brian."

They stared at each other for a few moments before Jennifer raised her eyebrows.

"May I come in?"

Brian stepped back and swept his arm out, inviting her in without a word.

"Nothing much ever changes here," Jennifer said as she entered. Brian slid the door closed, watching her as she surveyed the space.

"Why should it. If it ain't broke, don't fix it," he paused dramatically, "Or so they say." Brian knew full well Jennifer wasn't alluding to the décor or furnishings of the loft.

"Hmmmm," Jennifer hummed, offering a tight-lipped smile to Brian that didn't reach her eyes.

"And how are you doing?" Jennifer turned to face him full on.

"I'm fine," Brian responded stiffly. He could imagine what Jennifer wanted to hear from him; but he refused to play into her hands. Did he regret his actions? Yes, mostly. Did he regret letting Justin go to live his life? No; and yes. Would he ever admit either of these regrets to anyone? Fuck no.

"He keeps asking me to check on you," Jennifer said softly. "He's worried something's wrong. Like you're sick again?"

Brian shook his head.

"I'm fine," he reiterated when Jennifer continued to simply look at him, "you can tell him I'm fine."

Jennifer was quiet as she nodded, her eyes never leaving Brian's.

"I hope you know what you're doing Brian, because I've never seen my son so devastated," there was a decidedly cool, clipped tone in Jennifer's voice now, and Brian could visibly see her WASP-y nature threatening to burst.

"He'll be okay," Brian said quietly, partly for her but mostly for himself. He had to believe he'd be okay because otherwise there was no point to any of it.

Jennifer smiled at him and nodded.

"Oh, I know he'll be okay. He'll pick himself back up and move on and live a happy, full life. I know it in my heart. I think even he knows it, deep down. But Brian…," she paused, shaking her head and looking down at her feet for a moment. "You've broken something inside him. You've done a lot of awful things and hurt my son over and over but this time…I just want you to know, to really know, what you did to him."

Brian chewed on the inside of his lower lip, accepting the blame and internalizing it along with all the other hurt, and pain, and anguish he'd inflicted on Justin, and everyone, over the years. He owned it, because he deserved it. It was his, and he'd carry it forever.

With a sigh, Jennifer raised her head high and after a long look in which Brian felt a kind of finality of her presence in his life, she turned and left.

After that visit, things got progressively worse. Aside from speaking to Ted at Kinnetik, and Lindsay regarding Gus and their visits, Brian saw and spoke to no one else in his friend group. He tried calling Michael once, only to have Ben call him back to tell him Michael didn't want to speak to him and not to call again. He wasn't rude, per se, but even Ben's tone had a coldness to it that made Brian's skin crawl with doubt and uncertainty. He'd known his decision would cause a rift, but he hadn't expected it to go this far. He wasn't sure if he had underestimated the lengths to which his friends would defend Justin, or if there was more to it that he was simply ignorant of.

It was painfully awkward and Brian never felt more alone in his life. He couldn't and didn't blame anyone for their silent treatment of him, but it did make going to the diner, or Woody's, or Babylon a little lonely. Though really, Brian avoided those places for the most part, except for Babylon of course, but he still only went there as needed.

Months earlier, when Brian had bought Babylon with his Kinnetik excess funds, he'd hoped to use it as an escape, a reprieve. He'd hoped to use it to enjoy his evenings out with Justin before retreating either to his private office or to the loft for some more one-on-one time. But then Justin had never returned from Los Angeles to see Babylon so Brian – after struggling for weeks on end to get the club back on its feet and nearly losing everything he'd built in the process, his stubborn resistance to sell it forcing him to work harder at promoting and saving the club than he'd worked at any campaign in his entire career – after all that Brian could still only see it as a painful reminder of everything he'd lost.

Babylon had been _his _place. His and Mikey's. Then after the night he'd seen Justin under the streetlamp outside it had become his and Justin's. Now though; now he didn't have Justin, and he didn't have Michael. He was alone – and he didn't want Babylon to be only his; he didn't want it to remind him he was all alone. It was too fucking depressing.

Of all the losses to stem from Brian's actions, Justin notwithstanding, losing Michael was the worst of all. In the past, Brian hadn't gone more than a few weeks at a time without seeing or talking to his best friend, but Michael had taken Brian's absence from the movie premiere almost as hard as Justin. As Ben had explained on the phone, Michael had taken it personally, and he was furious. Michael was done with Brian and his shit.

A part of Brian wanted to tell Michael to grow the fuck up, but Rage, the comic, meant as much to Michael as it did to Justin and Michael was just as invested in the film's success as Justin, even if he hadn't worked on it directly. Brian knew this to be true. He just never realized Michael would interpret Brian's actions as anything other than aimed at Justin. But he had – and now Brian was left to wonder if there was any way Michael would, or could, forgive him.

Babylon was the reminder of what Brian had lost. His best friend and his lover; the only two men who would likely ever love Brian enough to put up with even a fraction of his shit.

Brian suffered the loneliness and ostracizing for two months before he started actively looking for a way out of Pittsburgh. He couldn't handle the stares (and glares), and even though Emmett and Debbie would talk to him if they were in the diner when Brian showed up, it wasn't the same. They were cordial, but they still held him at arm's length. Never had Brian thought he'd miss Deb's meddling, or Emmett's sensitive nature.

Then, Proposition 14 was passed and Melanie and Lindsay officially dissolved their union. They'd spent months trying unsuccessfully to reconcile; the passing of Prop 14 was all the push the two women needed to officially call it quits. Then, Lindsay took Gus and moved to Vermont.

With Lindsay and his son gone to a new state, Brian knew there was no longer any real reason for his continued presence in Pittsburgh. There was no Justin, there was no Gus. Michael wouldn't talk to him…so why not leave? He could be lonely _and_ ostracized in Pittsburgh, or just lonely somewhere else.

Enlisting Ted's somewhat reluctant help, Brian used Kinnetik and the now successful (though barely) Babylon to leverage a new business loan and he began the process of opening a satellite office of Kinnetik in New York City. Not quite four months later, he was there and Pittsburgh was nothing but a memory. He kept his loft, though. It was now paid for and a valuable asset and he planned to use it when he needed to do business out of the Pittsburgh Kinnetik office and, honestly, a very small part of him held out just a tiny bit of hope that someday he'd find himself there again – with a certain young blonde.

Not prone to daydreams of that nature though, Brian rarely let those images flood his mind. Mostly, he pushed away any and all thoughts of Justin – and finally being out of Pittsburgh he found it surprisingly easy to ignore the hollow hole in his chest.

Using New York as a means of escaping the shit-storm his life in the Pitts had become was quite effective. Setting up Kinnetik-NYC was a lot of work, and Brian had no time to dwell on the events of the past. There were no restaurants or dance clubs or street corners to remind Brian of some precious moment or another from his life with Justin. There was nothing at all in New York City to remind him of Justin – save the hotel in midtown Manhattan that the blonde had run away to all those years ago; but Brian barely remembered where it was in the giant city.

No – it was not hard at all to simply push aside and file away all the memories of his friends; all the things he'd ever done to hurt people. Justin.

A few months after moving, Brian severed another tie to Pittsburgh by selling Babylon to Ted. Ted had remained in the Pitts, running the office there which Brian had turned into the hub of Finance and Human Resources. The New York office was run by Brian, and of course Cynthia who had transferred to work by his side, and was where the "real" work was done. It had taken a few months to work out the kinks but by the end of the summer of 2006, Kinnetik was once again a finely oiled machine, and Brian was making more money than even he had ever dreamed possible.

As fall descended and Kinnetik became a stable force requiring a bit less of Brian's time, he finally started going out and exploring the city around him. He had found a place in Chelsea and was surrounded by clubs, and bars, and restaurants that all seemed to cater to his every whim and desire and soon Brian was back to his "old self". Tricking every night and drinking/drugging until the wee hours of the morning. His old behaviors were comfortable and comforting and it was a skin he could easily slip back into. No thoughts of friends or lovers lost – just the moment and as much pleasure as he could manage.

He found a niche to be filled, a hole in the landscape of gay men. He was every single older man's dream "younger man", and he was every younger man's dream "older man". One thing was for certain – the numbers of gay men at his beck and call were seemingly endless. He never wanted for a body to bring him pleasure, and he even found himself sometimes going back for seconds. But never thirds. Thirds would breed familiarity and Brian still wanted to be enigmatic and anonymous. He never wanted to be familiar to anyone again.

His habits aided in his ability to forget all bad shit of the last few years; the cancer, Justin in L.A., Prop 14, and of course the way Brian handled (or didn't handle) the movie premiere and supporting his best friend and his partner. He thought about it less and less over time and found the superficial existence he'd carved out, while not satisfying, was enough to keep him occupied and under the illusion that he was happy and in control of his life; that he was doing exactly what he wanted.

But sometimes he'd wake up at night, alone, and feel such a deep, dark ache inside that he would get physically sick. It didn't happen often, but when it did Brian knew why… There was only so much pretending his body could take before it had to flex its muscles and tell Brian it knew he was barely keeping it together. Those nights were the worst.

Then morning would come, and though he'd feel not quite as rested as usual, he'd forget about the night and resume his daily activities; work, the gym, the bar, the backroom, on and on ad nauseam.

For all the going out and partying Brian did in New York, he still had no friends; at least not people he'd call upon to have breakfast at a diner, or go see movies with. He had no Ted, or Emmett. No Michael. Cynthia attempted to include him in her new circle of friends – but Brian didn't fancy hanging out with a bunch of straight women, no matter how much they'd undoubtedly love to hang out with him. So he declined her invitations until one day she just stopped asking. By the time Brian had become lonely enough to consider going to happy hour with Cynthia and her gaggle, it was too late. He would never invite himself; he'd never ask to be included. So he continued to go home alone every night, or occasionally with one of the nameless, faceless fucks that he'd kick out as soon as he'd gotten what he'd needed from them.

He never let anyone stay the night; he never let anyone kiss him; and he never fucked anyone face to face. Tricking was a business of bodily pleasure and Brian regulated his activities in that regard ruthlessly, not quite aware that he always avoided the slight, blonde men, no matter how much interest was thrown his way. He was also not quite aware that most of the time he felt as unsatisfied and unfulfilled after, as he had before. But the illusion of power that tricking gave Brian was enough to let him continue to believe he was living his life on his own terms. That he was in total control.

Brian's new life in New York greatly resembled his old life in Pittsburgh; only now there was no blonde twink following him around, no self-righteous "friends" publicly shaming him for his behavior; or keeping him in line. Brian was free to do what he pleased – and he did. He lived life on the edge, the thrill of the drinking and drugs and strangers he'd fuck driving him to do more, try more, more, more, more…

There was no one to call him out on his recklessness, and no one to be sure he made it home safely. Honestly though, the inherent danger of his lifestyle fueled Brian. The adrenaline of the unknown almost as addictive to him as the drinking and the drugs and the sex he used and abused to sustain him.

Even with all the late nights out Kinnetik thrived and when, after over a year of being in New York, Brian still hadn't gone back to Pittsburgh (he conducted his business meetings over the internet or the phone), he finally sold the loft.

It was yet one more break from the past that gave Brian a sense of strength to move forward. He used the money from the sale to pay off a portion of his new mortgage in New York, and to finance a three week trip to Ibiza.

Lindsay and Ted were the only ones who still kept in touch – and that was somewhat by necessity more than by design. Lindsay was Gus's mother, so cutting ties there was not really possible as much as she might have wanted – though Brian was convinced her anger towards him thawed as time passed.

After moving to Vermont Lindsay did slowly start talking to Brian again, and Brian traveled to Vermont at least once a month to visit with Gus. She only mentioned Justin once though, then never again after Brian blew up at her and cursed her up and down both sides. He didn't want to know anything – or did he want to know too much? He couldn't be sure which was the case but what he did know was it was easier to pretend Justin didn't exist rather than try and face the way he'd behaved towards him; particularly after everything Justin had done for Brian over the years.

And of course Ted was still Brian's CFO and so they talked constantly about Kinnetik business, and sometimes Ted would regale Brian with his escapades. Ted and Blake were an on-again, off-again mess, and when they were off-again Brian knew simply because Ted would be a bit more chatty with him, a bit more free with telling Brian more than Brian wanted to know about his extracurricular sexcapades. Still, it was nice to talk to him, even if Brian would rather not hear about the latest kinks Ted was into. What Ted never talked about were their mutual friends, and Brian never asked.

It was surprising, then, when just after Thanksgiving Brian got an invitation to Ted and Blake's commitment ceremony in Pittsburgh. But Brian didn't want to go back to Pittsburgh. Not physically, not emotionally, not in any way. It had been just over two years since he'd left and Brian was finally feeling free of that place and its memories. When he called Ted to RSVP his no, he felt slightly offended by Ted's laughter, but that was followed by an immense relief when he realized Ted had really only invited him out of obligation.

No one expected him to go (except maybe Lindsay), and Brian didn't go – living up to the expectation. He didn't ask about it when he visited Gus and Lindsay a few weeks later either, though Lindsay felt it her place to tell him Justin had been there and he looked good. He was happy, and healthy, and loving his life. A part of Brian knew she was telling him to spite him. She still carried residual anger towards him for his behavior (or lack thereof). Sometimes, Brian would catch her looking at him with an almost disgusted expression. She played it off, claiming not to know what Brian was talking about when he brought it up. So he stopped bringing it up – but he didn't stop noticing.

The one thing Brian wanted to know though, he never did find out. Lindsay didn't say if Justin had come alone, and Brian didn't ask fearing the reason Lindsay didn't say was because he had been with someone, and that thought was almost too much to bear.

Brian stewed on the news for days after he returned to New York from his visit. He couldn't get the memories of the past he let slip away, or the imagined scenarios of Justin's new future out of his head. He tried to erase them by binging on drinks and drugs and men but no amount of drinking, or drugging, or fucking could continue to erase the profound emptiness Brian felt inside. The emptiness he did his best to ignore, rather successfully the majority of the time, but most certainly unsuccessfully when faced with the news regarding Justin.

The simple fact was running away from his old life had done nothing to make his new life any better. He was still alone, and though he did his best to forget it all he could still remember what it felt like to have people in his life who cared; a best friend, a boyfriend. Lindsay's words from years ago were prophetic because they were true - he wasn't in a better place in New York – just a different place, and he wasn't a different person, he was still the same – only older.

And even if the realizations of all his past mistakes were finally being realized it didn't matter. Brian was sure it was far, far too late to go back. He knew there was no going back – not after all the time that had passed and all the missed opportunities he'd had to make things right - not just with Justin, but with Michael too.

No. Brian had made his bed and now he had to lie in it – no matter how uncomfortable, cold, and lonely it was.

And it was fucking uncomfortably cold and lonely.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews and favorites. I am pleased to know so many of you are enjoying this so far. :)**

**The * marks the point where canon diverges into my alternate timeline.**


	3. Find Me

"_air you're breathing out fades you to gray  
don't run away, find me"_

**September 2012  
**Justin**  
**

For a moment he'd thought it was just an illusion – someone who looked eerily like Brian. But when the illusion simply stared back at him with hazel eyes so damned familiar, Justin knew it was really him. He felt his smile slide from his face as Aaron's voice carried over the din of constant chatter of conversation, laughter, and glasses clinking. Brian was _here_?

Fuck. Brian was here.

Justin's mouth went dry and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. This was it – the moment he'd imagined for years. He was face to face with Brian and he could finally tell him what he thought of him…except he couldn't.

Swallowing the nervous ball of energy that was bobbling around in his chest, Justin moved forward to intercept Aaron as he was within feet of Brian now. He instinctively wrapped his arm around Aaron's waist and kissed his cheek. He couldn't remember what had happened after that – not the words spoken or the gestures made. What he did know was he was looking once again upon the face of (God) the man who'd broken him; not just once, not just twice, but repeatedly. He was looking upon the man who'd sent him off to Los Angeles with the hope of promises that he'd never kept; that he'd never intended to keep.

Justin tried to reconcile the anger he'd felt for years with the man who stood before him now.

It'd been a fantasy he'd held on to for years. The imagined day, someday in the future, when he would once again cross paths with Brian. He'd dreamt of what he'd say to him (something witty and biting – the cruelty of the actual words changing day to day and with his mood), how he'd act (aloof, or happy, or maybe distraught…again, it was mood dependent). He'd imagined every possible thing he could do to make Brian feel the same pain and hurt he'd inflicted on Justin. The same devastation of a promised life crumbling into dust and blowing away on the wind; it could never be recovered or rebuilt.

For years. Then – he just stopped thinking about it because…because of Aaron.

So, when Justin did see Brian in Boston he found all his old plans and fantasies flooding his mind and confusing him. It'd been so long since he'd felt that particular hurt that now the feelings were nothing but puzzling.

Of course it had been years since he'd entertained any of those fantasies and they were but vague memories. Still none of that stopped all of it from surging back and making Justin want to do nothing but rail at Brian; yell and scream and demand a fucking explanation. Justin wanted to do all that and more – because he was owed at least that much. Yet, he didn't do anything at all which in retrospect he found might have been the greatest payback of all. Because Justin wasn't sure he really cared what the reasons or explanations were anymore.

He had seen on Brian's face the sadness and regret – even all these years later he could see behind the mask, through the chinks in the armor that Brian still wore. But it was too late. Justin had moved past it, had healed from it…or so he'd thought.

It was hard to move past the great love of your life hurting you so deeply when there'd been no closure for it – no certain and definite end. For years a small part of Justin had thought maybe Brian would just show up on his doorstep one day. That maybe he'd suddenly appear with a bouquet of flowers and an apology.

Justin wanted to laugh now at that naive fantasy. And it really had been a fantasy because Justin knew better than anyone that Brian didn't do flowers, and he most definitely didn't do apologies.

The real kicker was realizing he still loved him; he loved him hard and deep and quite painfully. He'd never stopped. Justin couldn't deny it and after seeing Brian again he knew those feelings would never go away. Brain had been his first everything – first kiss, first fuck, first love…he was also his first heartbreak. The pain of his breakup with Ethan paled in comparison to how Brian had made him feel. Of course that didn't mean he wanted Brian back…not when there was so much pain between them – more pain than pleasure. But Justin couldn't deny the way the man made him feel, and the way the man made his body react.

His initial, visceral reaction to seeing Brian again was shocking, and upsetting given the way things had ended. It was unwelcome and Justin hated his body for betraying him.

Seeing that face and those golden hazel eyes again Justin had lost his breath. He'd been thrown back in time and felt once more like that 17-year old kid, standing dejected and lost beneath a streetlight on Liberty Avenue; raising his head to find the steely, hot gaze of one Brian Kinney upon him, hypnotizing him, bewitching him. If not for Aaron's voice calling his name, Justin wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't have walked straight up to Brian and kissed him. It was an odd thought to have and it made him so fucking angry that Brian could still have that effect on him; that when he looked upon him, even still, the older man made his heart race and his palms sweat just by _being_ and _breathing_.

Seeing him again so suddenly and unexpectedly had brought back every single one of the fucking emotions he'd thought had long ago been resolved – or at least put away in a place so deep and dark and protected that they'd never resurface. Then he was there, staring back at him with shockingly open and honest eyes; the color of which Justin had seen in his dreams for years as he'd tried to reconcile the man he'd thought he'd known Brian to be with the man that Brian had turned out to be.

Now they were on their way home, or to Aaron's temporary home. Justin couldn't stand to be there, so close to the man who'd hurt him so carelessly. He'd needed to escape and Aaron, per his usual, understanding self, hadn't questioned him and Justin loved him for it.

Glancing sidelong at Aaron, the glow of the city lights casting harsh shadows on the other man's complexion, Justin tried to ground himself in the present. In his life now; in Aaron. Aaron was being rather generous – having not broached the subject yet, though the air in the car was quite tense and the proverbial elephant riding along with them was growing larger by the moment.

"I -," Justin started, but stopped suddenly. He what?

Justin had no idea what to say.

"I'm sorry to make you leave early," Justin finally blurted, watching Aaron as he navigated the narrow streets of Boston to take them back to the temporary apartment the Symphony had arranged for him.

Aaron nodded, and Justin could see his mouth quirking as a slow grin spread across his face.

"It's okay, babe," Aaron turned to meet Justin's eyes, his smile full and bright and Justin was overwhelmed with love and affection for him. Reaching over Justin threaded his fingers into Aaron's, feeling a sense of security and certainty that he had never felt with Brian.

They fell silent again – the tension somewhat eased but still there, lingering, because honestly Brian was still lingering with Justin.

He'd looked good. Healthy, though a little too thin – at least thinner than Justin remembered – and he'd looked older too, but not older in a bad way. In fact, Justin was certain Brain was one of those men that would only get more attractive as he aged.

Shit! He'd just been standing there, staring at him so…calmly. It was _wrong_. It was unlike the Brian Justin remembered, though Justin was keenly aware that maybe his memories were slightly tainted from years of trying to forget the man who'd so cruelly shoved him off the top of the Grand Canyon and watched as the fall had broken him apart, nearly irreparably.

But still it had felt wrong. _He_ had felt wrong.

For one, Brian had been _polite_. That right there was enough to give Justin pause. Brian was never polite. Ever. He was never friendly, or reserved, and if he was any of those things there was always an undercurrent of resentment or hostility to go with it – an obvious disdain evoking the sense of "I'm better than you". Justin had seen none of that, and if he hadn't long ago memorized the man's face, he wouldn't have recognized him at all because of its absence.

So what had changed him? What was so different now than eight years ago? What had tamed the wild beast and rendered the man unrecognizable in so many ways? Justin was desperate to know, yet didn't want to know at the same time.

What he really wanted was to put Brian behind him. To forget him, and move on. He wanted to finally heal.

They arrived back at Aaron's small, but quite stately, apartment and sat in the car together for some time, listening to the random clicks as the engine cooled.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Aaron finally spoke.

Justin shook his head; he wasn't sure how much Aaron had deduced but Justin was fairly certain he'd figured out who Brian was. Aaron knew a little bit about Brian, of course, but nowhere near everything.

Both his hands back in his lap, Justin twirled the ring on his left hand. The ring that symbolized the promise of a future so close within reach; a future certain to be full of happiness with a man who was good, and kind, and loving and everything Brian hadn't been.

Suddenly Justin felt a surge of anger at Brian for showing up in his life again and fucking with his perceived sense of security. Now that those long suppressed emotions were out and loose he wasn't sure he could put them back. He wasn't sure he wouldn't have to face them and it was frustrating because he was realizing he had been happier being ignorant of them.

"Do you need anything?" Aaron asked and Justin shook his head again.

"You?" he smiled.

* * *

Justin awoke with a start. He'd been dreaming about...something. He couldn't quite remember now, and the harder he tried the quicker the last vestiges of the dream disappeared into nothing, like the last tendrils of fog on a rainy morning.

He shivered, even though he was curled up tight beneath the covers of the bed with Aaron snug against him radiating body heat. Justin turned his head and stared at the face of his partner - he looked so young when he was sleeping and Justin smiled to himself.

Gently pressing a light kiss to the tip of Aaron's nose, Justin slowly extracting himself from the other man's embrace and rose from the bed, shivering properly as his naked skin was hit by the cool, still air of the apartment. Pulling on the sweat pants and t-shirt he'd shed several hours earlier when he and Aaron had gone to bed, Justin grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand and wandered out into the small living room. The blinds on the windows were drawn up, and the nighttime lights of Boston were softly illuminating the small space with an eerie glow that instead of calming him only added to Justin's overall discomfort.

His dream...it had left him feeling...odd? Anxious? Expectant for something, he knew not what.

It was because of Brian.

It was quite ridiculous that in Boston of all places and at a Symphony concert no less, he'd finally run into him again. Justin had always suspected there'd come a day when it would happen, but he'd figured it'd be in Pittsburgh, when he happened to be back visiting his mother which he did twice a year.

But no…it had to be fucking Boston.

The shock of seeing him still resonated, even hours later. Justin was beginning to realize it might not be as easy as he'd hoped it would be to just push that chance meeting out of his mind. The unresolved feelings that had been buried for years were bubbling up quite unbidden and most unwelcome - but they were bubbling up just the same.

Justin pressed the button on his phone and the clock came to life, illuminating his face as he stared down at it.

4:43am. Too early to call anyone.

Justin desperately needed to talk to someone about the events of the evening; unfortunately (or fortunately? it was hard to say which was true) there were precious few people still in Justin's life that could offer any sort of advice for this particular situation. Brian wasn't just _any_ old ex-boyfriend and dealing with him and these new developments would be a special case situation altogether.

He actually wanted to call Michael (which was odd to think), but since they'd stopped writing Rage together five years or so ago they'd also fallen out of touch. Justin didn't blame Michael for that. They'd never really been that close to begin with, and after the movie the only reason they'd remained in contact was because of the comic book and of course their shared pain of what Brain had done. Justin had fed off Michael (and certainly the other way around as well) until there was nothing left to feed from and they'd collectively run the comic into the ground. It was hard to sustain such a creative endeavor when the person, the man, being idolized within it was no longer an idol to either creator. When Rage was over it was really no surprise their contact dwindled down to nothing. Certainly now, should Justin call, it would only serve to remind Michael of what Brian had done and as much as misery loved company, Justin couldn't do that to Michael.

There was Lindsay...they still chatted a few times a year, catching up now and then. Justin loved to hear about Gus – learning over the years how to prevent even that topic from reminding him of Brian. Lindsay could be helpful now, but Justin did not have much faith in her ability to keep his confidence. They'd grown exceptionally close right after the movie and Brian's awful behavior - but she was still the mother of his son, and of course they'd eventually mended fences. No, Justin couldn't talk to Lindsay because he couldn't be sure she wouldn't tell Brian; and that was the last thing Justin wanted.

There was his mother, or Deb, but neither of them could be the least bit objective when it came to the subject of Brian Kinney so it was best to keep them out of it altogether…

That left Daphne. She was really was the only choice, regardless. Daphne knew better than anyone else what the relationship with Brian had given, and cost, Justin. From the very beginning she'd seen it all, and had been there to help him pick up the pieces (on more than one occasion). Even with all that, Daphne was the most objective person when it came to love and relationships and specifically Brian. Justin knew she would not sugar coat her thoughts, or just tell him what she thought he'd want to hear. She would be honest and that was what he needed.

With a heavy sigh, Justin pressed the phone button and scrolled down to his best friend's name. He knew she was up - working. Still, even if she couldn't talk now she would call him back when she could. And that was all Justin needed her to do.

"Hello? Justin? Are you okay?" Her voice was laced with concern and Justin could've kicked himself. Normal people don't call their friends at four in the morning unless there's something wrong.

"Shit. Sorry Daph. I'm okay. Just...I couldn't sleep," he sighed, sinking down onto the plush sofa and leaning his head against the back cushions, closing his eyes. He was suddenly exhausted.

"You gave me a heart attack," she admonished and Justin smiled into the darkness.

"Good thing you're at a hospital then," he said, hearing the vague, muffled background sounds of indistinct talking and machines beeping.

Daphne was finishing her last year of residency at a hospital in Santa Fe and consequently was counting down the days until she could go back to Pittsburgh, having secured a fellowship at the hospital there (in Pediatrics). She actually missed Pennsylvania and Justin couldn't understand why. Though, having never been to New Mexico, maybe it was the lesser of two evils.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly and Justin sighed again.

"I saw him tonight at Aaron's thing," he said.

"You saw him," Daphne repeated and after a pause, "you don't mean... You mean Brian?"

"Yeah," Justin grumbled running his free hand through his hair, pulling and tugging at it in frustration.

"Oh my God. Oh my God! Are you okay? What happened?" she stammered.

"Can you talk now because I really don't want to get into it only to have you get pulled away. This whole situation is completely fucked. I'm completely fucked," Justin said.

"Shit. Um…I'm off shift in three hours so I'll call you on my way home and we can talk. Okay?"

"Thanks Daph," Justin felt relief flood through him and suddenly it was all he could do to keep his eyes open, his exhaustion taking possession of him.

They made plans to talk again later that morning and as Justin disconnected the call he sighed with relief. It wouldn't solve the problem, but being able to talk about it with her would go a long way towards making him feel even a little bit better about how he'd handled things not just at the party, but also all those years ago.

"Babe?"

Justin jumped at Aaron's voice, leaning forward from the sofa and twisting his body around. Aaron stood behind the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. His eyes were thick with sleep and his hair was sticking up quite comically out of control.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I just woke up a little restless. I hope I didn't wake you," Justin stood from the sofa and walked over to Aaron.

"You didn't," Aaron replied, the last syllable stretching out as he yawned widely. Justin grinned at the endearing nature of him. He was still obviously half asleep but trying to carry on a conversation with him regardless.

"C'mon. Let's get you back to bed," Justin leaned in and kissed Aaron softly before he turned him round by the shoulders and guided him back to the bedroom.

* * *

"So tell me everything," Daphne said as soon as Justin answered his phone.

"Good morning to you, too," he laughed.

"Whatever. Tell me what happened, Justin. You're the one who called me in the middle of the night, remember?"

Justin sighed. He was out getting breakfast for himself and Aaron. The apartment wasn't stocked with any food so when Justin woke up again after a few more hours of restless sleep, he'd left Aaron tucked in bed (a note on his pillow) and had walked a few blocks to the small market. He was halfway back to Aaron's place when his phone had come to life in his pocket. Finding a spot of wall to lean against, Justin stopped, setting his groceries on the ground and watching as his fellow early risers passed by him without a second glance.

"Last night was the Symphony's gala. Aaron was brilliant, as always, and at the party afterwards I saw him. Fucking Brian was there," Justin replayed the moment in his memory, happy he was better able to control his emotions now that some time had passed and the initial shock had worn off a bit more.

Somehow, in the daylight, it didn't seem so bad; his reaction didn't feel so desperate or emotional. Still – there was something inside him that made it impossible for him to completely turn off all his feelings towards Brian. He had been a huge part of his life after all – he had helped form Justin into the person he was now, good or bad...

"And?" Daphne questioned with intense demand.

"And…and we saw each other. It was -," Justin paused, trying to find the right word to describe everything about it, "it was surreal."

"Surreal? Jesus, Justin," Daphne sounded awestruck and Justin smirked to himself.

"He looks just the same – a little older but still just as good looking," he smiled wider as Daphne snorted laughter, "he seemed different though."

"Different how?"

"I don't know. Softer in a way? Kinder maybe?"

"That doesn't sound like the Brian I remember," Daphne said and Justin imagined her shaking her head slowly.

"I know. That was why it was so surreal. He didn't seem like the Brian I remembered either. I mean, he looked the same, his voice sounded the same, hell he even smelled the same. But he didn't act the same and it's making me crazy trying to figure it out. I don't know what to do."

"What about Aaron?" Daphne asked.

"What about him?"

"How much does he know for one thing," Daphne responded and Justin closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again.

"He knows I was with a guy named Brian for several years and that it was on-again, off-again. But that's about it. I'm not sure he knows that the Brian he met last night is the same guy – though I'm sure he suspects it."

"You need to talk to him about this, you know."

"Yeah, I know. But I also feel this ridiculous urge to seek _him_ out, too."

"Justin. Don't be dense," Daphne's voice took on a cautionary tone. "Remember what happened? How you were right after Rage and all that shit? Don't do that to yourself again. Please. You can't go back. You need to keep moving forward."

"I am moving forward…; I just…he's still with me and it's not fair to Aaron. I need to sort this shit out with Brian before I can comfortably move on."

"I thought you'd put Brian and all that behind you. I thought you'd already moved on?" Daphne questioned, panting a little. She lived close to the hospital so she speed walked to and from. It was one of her ways to get some exercise since working overnights had completely fucked her internal clock, which she freely bitched about all the time.

"I thought I had too," Justin fibbed.

He had never really put that whole thing behind him. He'd shoved it down deep and pretended it hadn't happened (after a long while of trying unsuccessfully to figure out what _had_ happened), but he'd never dealt with it properly and now he was acutely aware that he had to deal with it, or it'd continue to sit inside him and fester until it eventually ruined his relationship with Aaron. And he didn't want it to ruin his relationship with Aaron. He wanted to be over it, and over Brian. As much as he could be, anyway.

"I get it. I do. Just…just be careful. Your heart is a fragile thing and I don't want to see it broken again," Daphne said and Justin was thankful for about the millionth time for her friendship.

"I will. But it's Aaron. He deserves all of me, not just the part of me that isn't still stuck on Brian. He fucking saved me after all…," Justin paused, catching sight of Aaron coming down the sidewalk towards him. "Shit. He's here."

"Brian?!" Daphne screeched.

"No. Aaron. I gotta go," Justin forced a smile as Aaron crossed the street and approached him.

"I'll call you when I get back to LA," he said as Aaron came to a stop in front of him wearing an infectious grin.

"Okay. Just please don't try to call Brian until you've talked to Aaron," she said and Justin rolled his eyes at Aaron, eliciting a small laugh from him.

"I won't. Later, Daph," he pocketed his cell before leaning down to pick up the two bags of groceries from the ground.

"What are you doing here?" Justin asked, letting Aaron take one of the bags and they started walking back towards the apartment.

"I woke up alone, again, and saw your note. I figured I'd walk down here and try to catch up with you," Aaron replied and Justin felt a tiny flash of guilt. This Boston Symphony guest spot appearance was a dream come true for Aaron, and Justin had spent almost all of his time in town obsessing over Brian instead of supporting Aaron and his success.

"I'm sorry," Justin said, feeling like he'd been apologizing far too much over the last 24 hours. Aaron deserved his attention, not apologies for being an after-thought or a distraction.

"Just don't leave me alone in bed again tonight," Aaron smiled, gently bumping his shoulder against Justin's. Justin gave a nod and a soft laugh, feeling more awful by the minute.

A few hours later they had eaten breakfast, showered, and were now lounging around the living room. Aaron was reading the Arts section of the Boston Herald, occasionally quoting lines from the various articles that had been written about the Symphony's performance the night prior and also about the "who 's who" of attendees of the gala after party. Justin was listening with half an ear, distracted by the sketches he was working on. He'd been recently hired as the Assistant Art Director for a new fantasy film based on a series of popular children's books, and he'd spent his plane ride to Boston reading the first book and making notes of his ideas and starting a few rough sketches. As he worked on them, though, he found his interpretation of the main villain uncomfortably resembling Brian a little too much.

"Hey," Aaron's toe lightly poked at Justin's thigh, bringing him back to the present, "are you listening?"

Justin looked at Aaron and smiled before quickly closing his sketch book. The face staring up at him from the page was far too familiar for comfort and Justin felt the pit of dread in his stomach grow. He had to do it now – there was no more putting it off.

"I need to tell you something," Justin twisted on his end of the sofa so he was sitting facing Aaron, his back against the armrest.

"Okay," Aaron said slowly, his brow furrowing as he set aside the newspaper and sat up a little straighter, crossing his legs underneath him.

"That guy last night at the after party? The one who knew me?"

Aaron nodded and Justin could see he already knew what he was going to say. Still – he pressed on.

"That was the Brian I told you about. My ex."

"I figured," Aaron said and Justin sighed.

"Yeah, but there's a lot more to our history than I've told you," Justin crossed his arms and hugged himself, feeling vulnerable and open for attack. There was so much about those years with Brian that had informed Justin and made him the man he was now. Good and bad. He wasn't sure how he could, or if he should, explain it in a way that wouldn't make Aaron doubt Justin's feelings for him. Justin wasn't even sure it was fair of him to tell Aaron about most of it, but he had to try if for no other reason than the fact that Aaron had always been honest with him.

Plus, if Justin wanted any sort of future with Aaron, and he did so desperately, then he deserved to know as much as Justin could bear to tell, and as much as he could bear to hear.

"I met Brian when I was seventeen years old," Justin stated, deciding it best to start at the beginning. He didn't miss the look of surprise that crossed Aaron's features.

"He took my virginity the night we met," Justin pressed on, carefully watching Aaron's face for signs of discomfort or distress. He didn't want to hurt Aaron, but he needed to make him understand why it had been so fucking awful to see Brian at that party. He needed to make Aaron understand why he was still so distracted by him.

"I fell for him hard that night, and I stalked him for days – hoping for more. He was like a drug I couldn't get enough of. All I wanted was to be with him. To touch him, to have him touch me. I wanted to learn everything he could teach me about sex, and I wanted to do nothing but get off with him over and over forever. I think -," Justin paused, smiling slightly and shaking his head, "no, I _know_, I drove him crazy. I was an annoying, lovesick teenager. But he kept coming back for more so I think he liked being able to teach me things. I think he liked my willingness to do anything to please him."

Aaron was silent, his expression unreadable. Justin chewed his lip and folded his hands in his lap, trying to relax before he continued.

"Every thought I had, every action I took, was with the intention of impressing Brian enough that he'd continue to want to be with me. I lived in a constant state of fear that he'd ditch me one day. I mean, why would a twenty nine year old want to be with a seventeen year old?"

"Why indeed," Aaron murmured and Justin smiled sadly.

Why indeed…it was a valid question at the time and even still Justin wondered. Did Brian put up with him all those years ago simply because he let him do whatever the fuck he wanted? Because as a horny teenager Justin was the only person who wanted sex as often and as repeatedly as Brian did?

"We were never exclusive, but after I was bashed I moved in with Brian and he took care of me. For several months he was with no one but me and I was so happy. I had my man and I was under the illusion that we were a real couple. But as the PTSD faded and I slowly healed he also resumed his old ways, tricking on the side. I was offended, and finally grew sick of it. So I left him for -," Justin paused, suddenly only just realizing how obnoxious he was for falling for another fucking violinist. He breathed a soft laugh before finishing his thought, "I left Brian for a musician I met at my college."

"It was refreshing to be in a relationship with someone my own age, who wanted to be with only me and who adored me. But he didn't adore me enough not to cheat on me. That was when I realized that though Brian tricked, he always came back to me and he never hid it or lied about it or tried to excuse it. It was a part of him, and had been since the very start, and if I wanted him back I had to be okay with that. And surprisingly, I figured out I was okay with that. I just wanted to be with him again and I was willing to put up with tricking and drinking and drugs just to be with him," Justin paused, watching Aaron closely. His expression was curious and disbelieving, but Justin wondered if his estimation of him had fallen; he wondered if Aaron would want to be with him after he learned of the doormat of a man he'd been.

"Together Brian and I brought down a corrupt politician, and things were the best they'd ever been between us. We were on equal ground, and I felt happy and I think Brian was happy too. Then, he got cancer and everything turned to shit again."

"He kicked me out for accidentally finding out because he'd never intended to tell me, embarrassed or whatever because he only had one fucking ball. I was so mad; and I think he only took me back because he was too sick from the Radiation to fight me. I forced my way back into his life for the third time…"

Justin realized suddenly that in their entire history, it had always been him fighting. Justin was the one constantly chasing Brian; the one working to strengthen their relationship; the one putting forth all the effort. He wondered how he'd never consciously realized it before and he was embarrassed for how pathetic he must sound to Aaron.

"In the meantime, Michael and I were writing Rage and then suddenly there was Brett Keller, wanting to make a fucking movie! I came to California to help him pitch it and he made me a job offer I couldn't refuse. It was an opportunity of a lifetime."

"When I got back to Pittsburgh, Brian asked me to move in. For the first time since we'd met, he was making a gesture simply because he wanted to be with me. I should have seen it then, when I told him about the job Brett had offered me. Looking back, things changed between us in that moment, but I didn't see it. And when Brian never came to visit after I moved out to LA for the movie, I should have realized. But it wasn't until the premier that I finally got it. When he didn't show up, or call, or make any contact at all I finally figured it out. He'd let me go – only he'd done it over the course of all the months I'd been in LA, and without giving me a choice, or a chance. I had been living my life under the assumption that everything was as it had been, and would never change. I hadn't seen it coming and he broke me – shattered me, really. That was the last time I spoke to him; eight, almost nine years ago now."

"And then you saw him last night," Aaron said. His expression was unreadable still, and Justin shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.

"Yes," he replied.

"And that's why you wanted to leave the party," Aaron continued and Justin nodded.

"I thought it must have been something like that. Not all those details obviously, but the more I thought about it, and the more distracted you acted last night, the more I realized that must have been the Brian you'd mentioned in passing."

Justin kept his eyes locked with Aaron, willing the other man to understand that he hadn't been trying to be deceitful or secretive.

"I get it," Aaron shrugged, "I do. Older men, particularly when you're so young, can be quite controlling and manipulative."

Justin bit his tongue, the urge to defend Brian almost a primal reaction. Yet Brian didn't need defending; he had been controlling, and manipulative, and Justin had been a willing and complicit victim; he'd been aware, much of the time, of the games Brian was playing with his emotions – but back then he had wanted more to be with Brian than anything else (he'd yearned for him, God could he remember the deep ache he'd get when he'd think of him…) and so he'd put up with it. But Brian was not the focus here. The focus was saving his relationship with Aaron, and that meant putting Brian out of his life for good.

"I never dealt with the heartache of Brian's rejection. I pushed it down and numbed it. You remember what I was like when we first met?"

Aaron nodded, his expression softening and Justin breathed a sigh of relief. It would be okay; he suddenly knew it would all be okay.

"So you're battling unresolved emotions. You've got old feelings reasserting themselves and making you doubt things," Aaron's voice was so clinical, it was obvious he was trying to contain fear.

"No! God; I'm not doubting anything. I'm not doubting you, or us," Justin leaned forward reaching out his hands and grasping Aaron's calf, massaging it before slowly moving his hands up his leg.

"But I am trying to sort out the unresolved feelings I still have about him. It's fucking confusing, and overwhelming, and terrifying because more than anything else I don't want to lose you," Justin inched forward, his hands on Aaron's thigh now.

Aaron had saved him. He'd been at his lowest point when he'd met him and Justin wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't be dead now if not for Aaron coming into his life. Aaron deserved nothing but adoration and respect.

"I'm going to work through this, and push Brian out of my life forever. I just…I wanted you to know about it. I might…I don't know. I might be weird. Or different. Detoxing from Brian Kinney can be complicated and messy and I don't want you to think something is wrong – or that it's you because it's not you. It's never you," Justin was practically on top of Aaron now, his lips inches away from the other man's face and his eyes searching the other man's bright green eyes.

"Okay," Aaron breathed as Justin felt his strong, nimble hands light on his ass, squeezing and pulling him closer.

"Okay," Justin repeated with a smile before he pressed his lips to Aaron's and forgot, for the moment, all about Brian Kinney.

* * *

Justin was back in Los Angeles two days later while Aaron stayed in Boston to finish his stint with the Symphony. He'd be there for two months and if not for the new film Justin would have stayed with him. But, there was a new film and so Justin was back in California and back at work. After talking with Aaron and clearing the air he'd felt so much better about things and had been able to finish almost twenty concept art sketches while there, and on the flight back. He felt good, and inspired, and was excited to get started on setting up his team for development.

He'd also decided, after talking to Daphne, not to contact Brian. Just talking about him with Aaron had been therapeutic and Justin was feeling the beginnings of his healing process. It would be surprisingly easy, he thought, to get over the shit from eight years ago and it was because he had Aaron in his life; a mature, supportive, and loving man who only wanted Justin to be happy and healthy. Yes, with Aaron's support Justin was absolutely positive he'd be able to wash Brian Kinney out of every nook and cranny of his body and soul. He could see now how toxic and unhealthy his entire relationship with Brian had been – and he worried if he tried to resolve that old image with the man Brian seemed to be now Justin wasn't sure he wouldn't be sucked back in and he didn't want that. He didn't want to lose what he had now. He didn't want anyone or anything else but Aaron.

A week later, Justin met with the location scout hired by the new film's director. He wanted to take Justin to New York. The new film they were in pre-production for would be filmed partly on location and partly on soundstages and New York City was the desired location, since the books were actually set there. Justin was grateful for distraction (since he was missing Aaron) but didn't relish returning to the East Coast – it was a little too close to Pittsburgh (and Brian) for comfort, but he resolved that overall discomfort with the fact that because Brian was in Pittsburgh, there would be no chance of running into him in New York City.

And so he went.


	4. Chasing The Shadows

"_i know the battles of chasing the shadows of who you wanna be  
it doesn't matter, go on and shatter, i'm all you need"_

****Brian**  
October 2012**

Before Boston, Brian rarely thought of Justin. After Boston, Justin was all he could think about. And that was how he qualified it, too. His life had become "Before Boston", and "After Boston".

New York City was meant to be distracting. That was one of the reasons he'd moved after everything with Rage happened. And that was how Brian had used the city in the years he'd been living there. It was one big distraction, keeping him from thinking about all the fuck-ups he'd never made right, or apologized for. It kept him from thinking about the people in his life that he'd disappointed, or hurt. It kept him blissfully ignorant of the way he'd used, and abused, many of his closest friends. It kept him from imagining the hurt Justin had likely felt when he'd realized Brian had not only kicked him out of the loft, but had kicked him out of Pennsylvania, and out of his life. He could ignore what he imagined was the deep pain Justin felt at being abandoned in Los Angeles with no explanation.

But after coming back from Boston there was nothing in the city that could provide enough of a distraction to remove Justin from Brian's thoughts. He couldn't go out because he was constantly seeing Justin in the face and form of every blonde man, and he couldn't sleep because his dreams were nothing but scenes and memories of his past life with Justin, lived out in vivid detail – exaggerated for maximum emotional effect. He was miserable, and alone with his own thoughts, which was never good.

He worked long days, than wandered about his penthouse apartment by night. He couldn't get comfortable and he couldn't focus on anything. He tried reading, he tried movies. He even tried to make small talk with Lindsay when he called to check up on her and Gus. Nothing worked – he was in a constant state of turmoil because while he could forget for a moment or two, when he remembered again it felt as fresh as the moment he'd decided he would break Justin's heart as a means to let him go.

But at least he had his privacy, and no one harping on him to call Justin, or try and make it up to him, or telling him he didn't know what he was giving up. The funny thing was, Brian did know what he'd lost, what he'd given up. He had regretted his actions almost immediately way back when he'd decided not to board that plane to LA, and once relocated to New York he'd easily been able to deflect those regrets, to bury them for all the intervening years. But After Boston those regrets returned a hundredfold and that was the hardest thing of all to deal with.

Brian didn't do regrets. There were precious few things in his life he felt real regret for, but the crushing weight of seeing Justin's face again after so many years had caused the most recent of those regrets to burn bright and hot once more, as if it were just yesterday that he'd decided not to go to LA, not to support Justin, not to be the man he sometimes thought he wanted to be…

So he sulked. And drank. And chain-smoked even though he'd promised Gus he'd try to quit. Damn schools and their health classes and cancer scare tactics.

Brian spent night after night, for weeks, standing in front of one of the many, many windows in his penthouse apartment. He stared out at the city before him, and he thought. He recalled every possible moment with Justin, starting with that first night, and ending with the last night they'd spent together before he'd left for Los Angeles. He remembered quite a lot; and mostly the small moments. The touch of his hand on his face, the heat of his palm against the back of his neck when he'd pull Brian's face closer, the feel of his lips - soft and full yet hard and powerful, the weight of his body when he'd lean up against him at Woody's, or Babylon, or the loft. His hair…

He wouldn't let his mind go much further. He wouldn't let himself recall anything more than that because just that little bit was painful enough.

After two weeks of dodging calls from the few people he knew in the city, Cynthia for one, and Sean for another, Brian finally relented and decided the only way he would get over the resurgence of emotion was to what he'd always done, drink, and drug and fuck it away. The techniques were tried and true for Brian – he'd done it once, he could do it again, even if it would be a slighter tamer attempt this time.

He conveniently forgot that it had taken years that first time around.

Brian called Sean, and when the other man arrived Brian barely let him close the door behind him before he was on him, pulling off his clothes and grabbing at his body, desperate for anything to make him forget. Sean willingly let him take complete control – it was how their "relationship" worked – for better or worse.

After, the two men lying on the hardwood floors of the living room with their clothes strewn about them, Sean leaned up on one elbow and eyed Brian curiously.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to call again," he said calmly.

Brian stared back at him, his eyes slightly narrowing as he examined Sean's face. Sean knew the score; he knew Brian was not interested in love or a boyfriend, and they'd had several arguments in the past on both topics before Sean had finally acquiesced to Brian's "rules". So, staring at Sean now Brian tried to see if there was some hidden meaning behind Sean's words – but the other man's pale blue eyes were simply curious.

Brian shrugged, rolling from his back onto his stomach before rising to his knees and rolling his neck out, sighing with relief as audible pops released the building pressure.

"Been busy," he said before rising and moving to the kitchen. He could feel Sean's eyes on him as he pulled two tumblers down from the shelf above the sink. Unscrewing the top of the bottle of Beam that was sitting on the counter, he poured them each a few fingers of the liquid.

Sean rose then, accepting the offered drink. The two men were quiet as they sipped. Brian liked that about Sean. There was no constant need to fill the silence with talking – with words that were only noise and rarely said anything of import.

"How was Boston?" Sean finally asked and Brian shrugged again.

"Great," he rinsed the two now empty glasses of any traces of Beam, feeling his restlessness stirring. He had to get out of his place.

"Want to go to Royals?"

Sean nodded curtly and after the two showered they dressed and headed down to the pool hall that Brian considered his second home.

* * *

Sean McMahan was a friend and a fuck buddy. He was red-haired, freckled, tall – only an inch shorter than Brian, and very was not Brian's type. Nothing about him physically would ever give Brian cause or reason to look twice.

But Brian had looked twice, more by necessity than desire, but he'd found the other man to be a kindred spirit of sorts, even if he was Brian's total polar opposite. Sean was affable, but strong-willed (in a non-condescending way). He stood up for himself and had an integrity that Brian greatly admired. He was a high school teacher – math – and he told terrible jokes, but he also listened and observed things in a way that no one in Brian's life had before, at least not that he was aware of.

Brian and Sean had met at a time when both men were in desperate need of acceptance and understanding, and they just so happened to be able to give each other those very things. Early on though, Sean tried to make it more than it was meant to be and Brian non-to-gently told him to fuck off. That if he was looking for love or partnership he could leave and never come back. Sean had disappeared for almost a week after that but when he did show up at Brian's penthouse again there was no more talk of those things, at least not for awhile. That had been almost three years ago. Occasionally over the years Sean would make a veiled statement, or insinuate that he wanted there to be more between them but each time that happened, Brian would shut down and close off. Sean quickly learned that if he wanted to be in Brian's life in any way it was his way, or no way. So for the last six months there had been no mention of love, or relationships, or feelings at all; there was nothing other than sex. Brian preferred it that way, though he knew Sean still fantasized.

Brian wouldn't say he was in a relationship with Sean because he didn't think he was - even though he rarely fucked anyone else, and sometimes between rounds they would spend their time talking about anything and everything under the sun, from kindergarten crushes to monster truck rallies. But Brian felt nothing for him other than friendship. He was attractive enough Brian supposed, and he was nice (nicer than Brian deserved, he knew that for sure), but he was nothing more; not to Brian. Sometimes he wondered if Sean _could_ be something more; sometimes he wondered if he _wanted_ Sean to be something more…but then he'd shrug the thoughts away and let the status quo stand. Why rock the boat when it worked so well for him?

For Sean though...well, Brian wasn't convinced the guy wasn't in love with him. Because while Brian wouldn't kiss him on the lips or the face or the neck - he kept his lip action almost entirely below the waist - Sean loved to nibble on Brian's ears, or bite at his neck. At first Brian had responded violently to that type of familiar touch, shrinking away, but Sean persisted and eventually Brian let him. He liked it; it felt nice. But there was no kissing on the lips. The one and only time Sean had tried to kiss him had led to Brian throwing him out into the hallway naked, his cock rock hard and leaking while Brian tossed all his clothes after him. When Sean had come back a few days later Brian had said only five words, though they were laced with venom and warning, "No kissing on the mouth".

That was the end of that.

Ironically though, Brian desperately missed kissing. The feel of another man's strong lips on his, their tongues battling for entry into the other's mouth.

Kissing had been one of Brian's favorite methods of foreplay. But after kissing Justin and only Justin for almost five years, Brian couldn't bring himself to kiss anyone else. He had tried, when he'd first arrived in New York, and he'd found the experience wanting. He and Justin had had each other's mouths memorized, they had had a rhythm and a technique and it was oh so good...Brian ached for that again but he simply couldn't find it anywhere so finally, after months of kissing tricks as well as fucking them, Brian stopped the kissing. He saw it as a sort of penance, one that he'd earned, and one that he deserved.

Royals was a hole in the wall pool hall and gay bar, but also the most popular pool hall and gay bar – at least in Brian's neighborhood. It was conveniently only one block away from the penthouse, so Brian and Sean walked there in short time only to find all the pool tables occupied. Deciding to wait it out in the hopes that a table would open up, Brian got them each a beer and they staked out a spot at a high top in the back of the room.

"So I take it you got that account in Boston you were after," Sean said suddenly, breaking the heavy silence that had been sitting between them since they'd left Brian's penthouse.

"Mmmmhmmmm," Brian hummed as he sipped his beer.

He stared at the two men playing pool at the table nearest them. They were both, big, beefy blondes and in another day, in another lifetime, Brian would have ditched Sean in an instant and taken them both out to the alley for some fun. But he wasn't that guy anymore, and the two didn't seem to be all that interested in anyone else, anyway.

Brian kept his eyes on the two blondes, seeing Justin in their every movement and expression, though neither man looked at all like the slighter blonde Brian couldn't seem to get out of his head.

"Did something happen? You're acting even moodier than usual," Sean said and Brain shot him an accusing glare.

"Fuck you," he grumbled.

Sean sighed tiredly and Brian felt an odd, vicious thrill at hurting the other man. He wasn't sure why, Sean had done nothing wrong and didn't deserve Brian's wrath. Really, Brian wished Sean would turn on him – but though he was strong-willed and stood up for himself, he wasn't angry, or violent, and Brian honestly couldn't recall if he'd ever even heard the man say a bad word, other than when he was begging Brian to fuck him harder and faster.

The silence descended again – more uncomfortable than before and Brian was about to break it when the door to the bar opened and a ray of fucking sunshine walked in.

"Holy shit," Brian's eyes widened, his grip tightening around the beer at the same time.

"What?" Sean looked at him curiously before popping a pretzel into his mouth.

"At the door," Brian said softly, transfixed.

There, at the entry, was Justin. Fucking Justin was standing inside Brian's regular bar, in New York City, across the fucking country from Los Angeles. A small part of him secretly hoped the younger man had actually sought him out, but when an older, grey-haired man at the bar stood and waved Justin over, Brian knew it hadn't been him that had drawn Justin to the Big Apple. He watched as the two men hugged and Brain narrowed his eyes, observing the scene with piqued interest.

"Who is that?" Sean asked and Brian glanced briefly at the other man. He hadn't spoken of Justin to Sean, at least not in any great detail. Sean knew there had been someone, and they had been together (off and on) for several years. But he didn't know the circumstances of the "break-up", and he certainly didn't know the circumstances of the other man; of Justin.

Justin.

Right there. In his path once again.

Brian raised his beer and took several long swallows, draining the bottle.

"Be right back," he said absently as he stood and walked quickly towards where Justin now sat with the older gentleman, tumblers of amber brown liquor in front of them.

Collecting his wits and gathering up every bit of courage as well as fixing his "Brian Kinney" façade, Brian slowly approached the two men from behind. The bar itself wasn't full, but it was crowded enough that there was no space on either side of Justin or the other man. Brian cast a furtive glance towards where Sean sat.

Sean, for his part, was simply watching. His expression was unreadable, but Brian got the sense he was a little miffed and Brian knew he'd likely have to come clean about Justin if he wanted to keep Sean in his life. And hell if he didn't think he'd miss the other man if he suddenly wasn't around. Years of fucking and friendship had made him dependant and a small part of him was angry at himself for letting that happen. But, circumstances had made it necessary…

Just then the two burly bears that had been ordering several pitchers of beer departed the bar and the space next to the man Justin was sitting with opened up. Brian took a deep breath, shoved all thoughts of Sean and their "arrangement" from his mind and approached.

"Hey," Brian sidled up to the bar just to the right of the older man, leaning on his forearms so he was directly in Justin's line of sight. Justin had been in the middle of talking to the older man, who just turned his head and looked at Brian curiously. Brian barely acknowledged him; he only had eyes for Justin and he watched as Justin's words slowly died on his lips and a look of surprise and incredulity washed over his slowly reddening face.

Brian couldn't help a small smirk from forming on his lips.

"Uh, hey," Justin slowly answered, cocking his head slightly as if that might change the fact that Brian was standing right there in front of him.

The older gentleman who sat between Brian and Justin looked between them a few times before he excused himself. Brian couldn't help but notice the bemused smile on his face. He probably thought Brian just wanted to pick Justin up. If only it were that easy.

"What the fuck are you doing in New York?" Brian cut to the chase. Their first encounter in Boston had been random coincidence, but this one…this had to mean something more and Brian intended to figure out what.

"Work," Justin replied, his expression clearing as he appeared to gather his wits and pull himself together.

There was a hard edge to his voice that surprised Brian, though if he really thought about it, he wasn't all that surprised. He had thought the greeting he'd gotten from Justin in Boston had been a little too polite (he was a proper WASP, though); a little too much "for show". It was now apparent there was a lot of anger and hostility and in all honesty, Brian wanted Justin to express it. He wanted Justin to yell at him, to scream at him, to pound his fists against his chest and demand an explanation. It would be a million times better than the cold, dead eyes he had gotten from him in Boston.

"Uh, what are you doing here?" Justin asked and it was Brian's turn to be surprised.

"I live here. Have for years," he stated, wondering how it was that no one, in the last eight years, had let that nugget slip.

"Oh," Justin nodded and spun his tumbler on the bar. Brian saw a glint of light play off a ring on his left hand and he felt slightly sick. Was he married? He wanted to ask…he _desperately_ wanted to ask. But he didn't.

"Of all the bars in all the cities…," Brian nodded, hoping to lighten the mood but it was apparent Justin was not in the mood for it. His brow furrowed, his lips pursed and he shook his head.

"Just stop," Justin said before offering a sharp bark of bitter laughter, "It's not going to happen, by the way."

"I didn't…I don't…that's not…," Brian stammered, knocked off his game by the sudden shift in Justin's attitude.

"I just thought I'd say hello…," Brian's voice trailed off as the bartender suddenly set two beers before him.

Justin eyed the bottles, "Two at once?"

"Uh, no," Brian shook his head as he felt his confidence waning. He wondered how to play out this next bit. He could either pretend nothing had changed and let Justin think he was still a promiscuous man-whore, or he could expose Sean…and neither option was very appealing.

"Well don't offer it to me," Justin crossed his arms and stared at Brian defiantly, "I don't accept drinks from assholes. Or strangers."

Ouch. Asshole he accepted. But stranger?

After eight years they might not know each other like they used too…but a fucking stranger? Brian's chest was on fire and he wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear. Justin was only one of a few select people who could make him feel like that, and Brian had to wonder if the younger man even knew he still held such power; hell, he wondered if Justin had ever known he'd held that power.

Brian smiled softly and nodded, lowering his eyes to the bar and feeling any little last bit of his mask start to crumble. He hadn't played the part for so long; it was harder to do now.

_Fine_, he thought making his decision, _exposing Sean it is_.

"The other beer is for him," Brian tilted his head towards where Sean sat, but he didn't turn to look. Instead he kept his eyes on Justin trying to gauge what was going through the other man's head as he looked to where Brian had indicated, over where Sean sat probably still watching them.

"Who the fuck is that?" Justin asked and Brian wasn't sure if he imagined the slight jealous tinge to his tone, or if was really there.

Brian glanced over his shoulder then and gazed upon Sean for a moment before looked back at Justin.

"He's no one."

Justin just stared at Brian, a look of bitter amusement on his face.

"Nothing with you ever changes, does it," he leveled his blue eyes at Brian and for a brief moment Brian didn't recognize him at all. But the moment passed quickly and then Brian could see the injury Justin was trying to hide. The wound Brian inflicted all those years ago that had never healed. He was starting to fully realize the number he'd likely done on Justin. The awful, horrible way he'd likely made the younger man feel, and the way he'd likely made him doubt himself.

"Are you sure he's not the guy you fuck more than once? Though I have to say he's not really your type. But then again, guys who aren't your type seem to be the only ones you do fuck more than once."

Brian cocked his eyebrow slightly but didn't answer. He wouldn't admit it, but he also wouldn't lie. It was true, Sean was the guy Brian fucked more than once, even if the words didn't mean the same thing now as they had when Brian had said them about Justin. Brian had wanted to fuck Justin more than once because…well, he'd loved him and simply wanted to be with him. Brian wanted to fuck Sean more than once because it was easier that way. They both knew what to expect, what they were getting, and there were no questions and no complications. No painful explanations of things required. It was an arrangement. That was all. But he couldn't say that.

He wasn't sure Justin would believe him anyway.

"What do you want, Brian?" Justin sighed and Brian heard the emotional exhaustion in his voice. It would seem maybe Justin had been thinking about Brian as much as Brian had been thinking about him.

"I -," Brian started but looking at Justin he felt the last bit of his mask slip and a grimace cross his features.

"Fuck," he whispered, dropping his head to his hand and taking a deep breath.

When he raised his head Justin was looking at him strangely, his anger seeming to have dissipated just a little. Now there was just hurt, and uncertainty, and maybe a little hope? In any case Brian recognized the expression. It was the way Justin used to look at him in those first few months they had known each other. Whenever he thought Brian was starting to thaw to his advances; when he thought Brian might be offering the slightest little bit of emotion or acceptance. When he had hope that Brian would love him back the way he so desperately wanted... Brian wondered if Justin even knew he was doing it.

The older gentleman who had excused himself came out of the bathroom then, and Brian sighed inwardly. He had precious little time left, but so much he still wanted and needed to say. Yet nothing would come out. Every sentence Brian formed in his head sounded as silly and insignificant and immature as Brian knew his behavior those years ago had been. He needed more time – but he would not get it.

"Enjoy the city, Justin. It was really good to see you again," Brian smiled widely, and genuinely, as the older man returned and reclaimed the vacant stool between him and Justin.

Justin's eyes widened ever so slightly at Brian's words, and Brian could clearly see there was more he wanted to say, too. With one last nod, Brian picked up the two beers and made his way back over to where Sean still sat at the high top.

Brian silently set the beers down and stared at Sean for several seconds, daring the other man to ask or say anything. Brian suddenly wanted to fight, he wanted Sean to storm out angry, he wanted someone to make him feel like shit. But Sean didn't say anything about the scene he'd witnessed.

"They'll be done with the table in a few minutes."

Brian nodded.

Ten minutes later as Brian was chalking his cue he saw Justin and the older guy stand and head towards the exit. Justin turned at the door and for just one moment Brian met his eyes before he was gone again.

* * *

When he'd moved to the city it had taken him exactly three days to find the perfect place. He'd given his realtor a non-negotiable list of requirements - skyline views, unobstructed sunlight, vaulted ceilings, a private roof patio, secured-but-not-guarded entry, and above all else, views of one of the rivers that surrounded the island of Manhattan. There was precious little available that met all those requirements and Gerard, Brian's realtor, had been showing him the fourth place on a very short list of five places when it happened. Brian knew it was the right place the moment he walked in, and it took only ten minutes for him to declare so to Gerard. Three weeks later he was moving in, and he couldn't have been happier for it.

The large (3,400 sq ft), open floor-plan, penthouse apartment was in Chelsea. Just off 10th Avenue and W 25th Street in a slowly reviving, artsy neighborhood. Before Boston, it was a safe haven far from the world of advertising and far from the type of people who always wanted something from him. After Boston, he began to question his decision to live around so many artists – wondering if he hadn't been subconsciously wanting to punish himself somehow. After Boston, living in Chelsea became much harder – because all it did was remind Brian of Justin.

Still, he loved his place. He had clear views of the Hudson River, as well as a direct sightline of the Empire State Building, and from one particular spot, the top of the Chrysler Building was just visible.

Brian loved his penthouse in New York more than he'd ever loved his loft in Pittsburgh – and he'd really fucking loved that loft. But being in New York, in Chelsea, was like a breath of fresh air; or had been, Before Boston.

Sean loved the penthouse too, and when they got together it was always at Brian's. Brian didn't mind because Sean's place, while likely nice enough for him, was a shithole by Brian's high standards.

Sean followed him home that night, and Brian wasn't sure why. Their game of pool had been aggressive and miserable and they hadn't said one word to each other for almost half an hour. Yet still, when Brain grabbed his jacket and started for the door Sean fell in right behind him.

They were silent on the elevator, and Sean just stood quietly by while Brian unlocked the penthouse door, following Brian in when Brian didn't shut the door in his face.

"Will you tell me what's wrong?" Sean asked.

Brian scowled at him before he entered the kitchen and poured more than several fingers of scotch into a glass, downing it all before pouring another. He was so angry – with Justin, with himself, with Sean…

After weeks of trying to resolve the feelings that had resurfaced after seeing Justin in Boston, the fucking little twat shows up again, this time in Brian's safe haven! How could he go back there again, to Royals, and not think of Justin? It was ruined for him, and he was enraged that his city, the place he'd used for years to safely hide from his ghosts, was no longer safe at all. It was infected, and the festering of his unresolved feelings for Justin would be his undoing. He was certain of it.

"Nothing," Brian stomped over to the sofa and threw himself down, taking a long swig of the brown liquid and savoring the burn as it traveled down his throat and into his stomach. Some of the pain faded along with it, and Brian took another swig, but noticed the effects were muted.

"Nothing."

Brian looked up at Sean. The other man was standing in front of him, staring at him with a look of incredulity.

"You're about to explode from your skin so don't tell me nothing is wrong," Sean crossed his arms. "Was it that guy you saw?"

Brian huffed his annoyance at the question before he downed the rest of the scotch in one gulp. His face felt warm and his tongue felt loose in his mouth…

"Justin," Brian groused, staring at the empty, cut glass tumbler in his hands and marveling at the reflection and refraction of light as he turned it round and round.

"Justin," Sean repeated, "he's an ex?"

Brian barked a sharp laugh, "you could say that."

Sean sighed and Brian looked up at him. He looked exasperated and Brian suppressed a smile.

"So what's the story?" Sean finally asked and Brian shook his head with a sad smile.

"It's too long and too fucked up," he leaned his head against the back cushions, closing his eyes. When he felt the sofa shift slightly beneath him he raised his head to find Sean sitting next to him.

"You know about my past," Sean said softly and Brian saw his hand come up and out before it paused and fell back to Sean's lap.

Brian sat up and scooted away from Sean, turning his body as he did. He could see it in Sean's eyes, and he didn't want to see it. But there it was staring back at him. The fucker was in love with him, and all these dramatics about Justin were only fueling him, making him more desperate to lay some kind of claim on Brian. That was the moment Brian knew he had to stop; he had to send Sean away and for good. Damn if the thought didn't make him a little bit sad.

"I don't come out of the story very well," Brian said and Sean shrugged.

Maybe it would be a good thing, Brian thought. Tell Sean everything, make him realize what a piece of shit he was and that he wasn't worth the effort of loving – maybe that would make him stop, maybe that would make him go away, because he had to go away. Brian knew he couldn't keep doing what he was doing, not when he knew Sean's feelings… Brian ignored his conscious telling him he'd known Sean's feelings for years and never cared before. Because it was true, he had known, and he hadn't cared. But he cared now.

"He was seventeen when I took his virginity," Brian blurted, keeping his eyes on Sean so he could see his reaction, "and I was twenty-nine."

Brian wasn't disappointed. Sean's eyebrows shot straight up and his jaw dropped slack as he stared at Brian.

"I was a fucking asshole to that kid, yet for days he dogged me, following me desperate for any attention. Finally I gave in," Brian paused, recalling the sight of seeing Justin on the dance floor of Babylon, an innocent (at least as far as guys at Babylon) sandwiched between two much older and much more experienced men.

"He was fucking amazing in bed. Teenagers, they have the stamina to go all night long," Brian breathed, leaning closer to Sean and willing the other man to shove him away and call him disgusting, and perverted.

But he just sat there and stared at Brian with wide eyes.

"I taught him everything I knew," Brian laughed, "which was, or is, a lot. And he was a very willing student."

Brian's smirk faded as his memories took over. Justin's parents kicking him out, his running away to New York, moving in with Deb, the nights in the loft, the way he'd level Brian with random words of wisdom that were far beyond his years, the fucking Prom. He told Sean about most of it, keeping many of the details to himself while trying to paint himself as awful as possible.

"He was bashed in the head because of me. Because I showed up at that dance," Brian said. "He almost died."

Those images, as fresh in his memory as anything, would never fade. He shivered against the unpleasantness.

"Things were on again, off again for years after that. Mostly on again, and good. Some of the time anyway. But then Hollywood came calling, and I let him go," Brian shrugged.

"I saw him for the first time in something like eight years, when I was in Boston," Brian rolled his lips into his mouth and nodded, "and then again tonight."

"I mean, what are the chances? Boston, and then here? In my bar?"

"That's pretty damn coincidental," Sean said.

"But I have a question for you," Sean shifted slightly, "why in the hell did you, a man nearing thirty, continue to see him when you knew he was only seventeen years old?"

"Is that all you took from everything I just said?" Brian arched an eyebrow, curious that Sean hadn't latched on to one of the many, many awful things Brian had done to Justin.

"No," Sean replied, "but as a high school teacher…I don't know Brian. That's pretty disturbing."

"Fuck off," Brian sighed – but he knew a part of Sean was right. "He seemed older than that. Sometimes, anyway," he added softly, fearing Sean was not scared away, but rather more attached than ever. Brian had revealed his wounds and he feared the other man was now intent to try and heal them.

"So what are you going to do," Sean said, so quiet Brian almost didn't hear him.

"Don't know," he replied. And it was true. He didn't know.

* * *

Seeing Justin again put Brian right back in the same place he'd been After Boston. He was in constant battle with himself, angry at Justin for getting to him, angry at himself for being the reason behind Justin's anger and hurt, and frustrated that there seemed to be nothing he could do to make himself feel better.

The week following his second run-in with Justin, Brian spent his nights alone in his place yet again staring out his windows trying to figure out what, if anything, he could do to resolve his emotions. Would it be fair of him to try and contact Justin? Probably not…but how else could he move past this? How else could he forgive himself if he didn't at least try to get forgiveness from the one he'd hurt most?

And it wasn't only Justin that Brian suddenly felt he needed to make up with, either. He felt like he owed everyone, Emmett, Deb, Ted, and especially Michael some sort of apology for that time in his life, and for the way he had simply run off instead of facing the music. Lindsay had hinted more than once that Deb especially was hurt Brian simply disappeared into New York, never to be heard from again. But what could he do? And was it too late? Eight years was a long time; maybe no one cared anymore.

Then, the Friday afternoon of that week as Brian was walking home from his subway stop he passed by a comic book store. It was the same comic book store he'd been walking past for the last eight years yet for some reason on this day he turned and glanced at the various books hanging in the window. He supposed it was because he had Michael on his mind, but whatever the reason on that day, when he looked, he saw something that froze him in his tracks.

There in the window was a near-mint condition Volume 1, Issue 1 of Rage: The Gay Crusader.

With only a moment's hesitation, Brian went inside and purchased the bagged book, practically sprinting home eager with anticipation. He'd long ago tossed his copy of the issue and just holding the book in his hand he felt a strange nostalgia wash over him.

An hour later, after having slowly and methodically paged through the book, taking in every image and every word, remembering what it had been like seeing the light and excitement in both Justin and Michael's eyes as they had worked on it, he set it aside with a small smile. He was so damn proud of them, even still.

Flipping open his laptop, Brian did something he had never done before; he Googled 'Rage gay crusader'. He read about the movie, the failed sequel, and found several listings for collections of the comics on eBay. But his excitement faded when he came across an old blog post from2009 that pretty much ripped apart the comic. The blog author was cruel, noting that the love and care that had been present in the first few volumes of the book had vanished from the comic, the last volume nothing but darkness and dreariness. The love the creators had felt for Rage had gone, and the stories in that last volume of comic books showed that. The art was no longer inspired, and the words were harsh, sometimes cruel. Rage the crusader was a shell of man, and even JT and Zephyr were unrecognizable in their characterizations.

Brian felt a small part of his heart die when he learned Rage ceased to exist just three weeks after the blog post was published. Rage was no more, and it was his fault.

Brian slammed the lid of his laptop shut and paced his apartment, rolling and unrolling the first issue in his hands. He had not only ruined Justin and Michael's happiness with his actions, he'd not only spit in the face of their accomplishment, but he had been the very cause and reason behind the demise of the only openly gay superhero out there. He'd ruined it for every gay boy who desperately wanted to see themselves between the pages of a comic book.

"Fuck!" Brian yelled, throwing the comic across the room and watching as it fanned out and drifted slowly to the ground.

Brian stalked to his bedroom then, absently tossing a few things into a travel bag before locking his place. Walking the few blocks to the car park he first texted Sean to let him know he was headed out of town and not to come by, before he claimed his Lexus (having sold the Corvette when he'd moved) and headed straight out of the city and towards Vermont.

* * *

Gus was twelve years old, and almost as tall as Lindsay. He was a spitting image of Brian in every way, except he had Lindsay's large, dark brown eyes, and Lindsay's kind, pleasant demeanor. He was athletic, and smart, and popular. Brian was proud of him, and he treasured the relationship they'd formed over the years. It was the one good thing to have come from the mess Brian's life had been over the years.

And for being twelve, and entering the turbulent waters of middle school and puberty and hormones, Gus was still as excited as ever when Brian would show up, especially when he'd show up unannounced, which he did occasionally but which he realized, as Gus got older, that he wouldn't be able to do for much longer. Once his son started to have a life of his own, outside of his parents, it would be harder to show up unannounced and expect Gus not to have tons of weekend plans. But, until that time came Brian would relish his surprise visits and the wide grin and the uninhibited hug they elicited from his son.

Lindsay was happy to see him, too, but surprised. He had a planned visit for the following weekend, and Brian just shook his head, assuring Gus when he asked with concern of Brian would still come up the next weekend, that yes, he planned to come back again.

Later, after Gus had gone to bed and Brian and Lindsay had had a few beers, she finally asked him what was going on. He knew she could see it in his face, his struggling emotions. He'd never been good at hiding things after…after what had happened and Lindsay had grown much more observant of his moods since then, too.

"I ran into Justin," Brain blurted, somewhat amused at the shocked expression that crossed Lindsay's face before she regained her composure.

"Where? When?" she stared at him wide-eyed.

"The first time -," he started but she cut him off.

"The first time? There was more than one time?"

He leveled his eyes at her and she raised her hands, "Sorry. Go on."

"The first time -," he repeated, focusing on peeling the label off his beer bottle and avoiding Lindsay's look, "- was when I was in Boston last month."

It had been easier with Sean, because Sean didn't know the nitty gritty details….but Lindsay knew it all and Brian knew she wouldn't play nice if he did ask her for her opinion on the subject of what he should do. He supposed that was why he was telling her, because he needed someone to tell him it was okay to try and make amends. He needed to know it was not too late.

"The new client I'd just signed invited me out to the symphony and Justin was there. With his new guy," Brian paused; was he a 'new guy'? Justin had a ring, and they were awfully familiar with each other. No, he likely wasn't a new guy.

"What happened," Lindsay pressed, softly.

Brian scowled, glancing up at her before he focused again on the bottle's label.

"Nothing really. I said hello. Told him he looked good. Then he was gone. Then, last week I go out with Sean to play some pool and who the fuck else but Justin walks in," Brian shoved the bottle away from him, suddenly angry.

"And how was that?" Lindsay asked and Brian threw back his head and sighed.

"It was fucked up," he said quietly.

"I just…I never thought I'd see him again," Brian ran his hands through his hair and looked at Lindsay again.

"But you did. And now…?"

Brian laughed. Lindsay knew exactly how to lead him on, how to drag things out of him; typically things he wanted to say anyway, but was afraid too. It was something he loved about her – that she knew him well enough to know where to go so he could say what he needed to say, sometimes without actually saying it.

"He's in my head again. Haunting me. And I'm wondering…," he trailed off, chewing his lip for a moment, "I'm thinking maybe I should do something. Or…I don't know."

"You want to call him."

"Maybe. And Michael. Maybe."

Lindsay stared at him for a long while before she spoke, and when she did, her words were not what Brian was expecting to hear.

"I think you should call Michael. I think it's long past time you two made up. But Brian," she shook her head, "I'm not sure you should call Justin."

"Why's that?" Brian said, feeling defensive. Lindsay was supposed to be on his side, she was supposed to tell him yes, call Justin and make amends and get back together because you belong together forever! Though why he thought she'd say that he wasn't entirely sure.

"Because he was a fucking fall down mess after you didn't show up for Rage. A mess," her look hardened.

"It took him a long time to get over what you did, and I don't think it would be to his benefit if you were to suddenly try and reinsert yourself in his life. He's found someone who loves him, and who he loves, and they plan to get married whenever Prop 8 is overturned in California."

Brian nodded, but his resolve was growing. Suddenly the challenge of making Justin forgive him, of making him listen to and understand his reasons for not going to LA all those years ago, was becoming more and more enticing. He let Lindsay have her say, but Brian had already made his decision. As hard and as painful as it might be, he was going to make things right between he and Justin, and he and Michael, and he and everyone.

For the first time in a very long time, Brian felt a sense of calm wash over him.


	5. Broken Pieces, Pt II

"_broken pieces, break into me  
showing perfectly what you should be"_

**January 2005  
**Justin****

"He's not coming, is he," Justin stared at the faces of his friends, his family, and saw pity and anger and love in their expressions. But it didn't matter, because Justin knew in that moment that he wouldn't see Brian again.

He didn't understand why. That was the worst part of all of it.

His excitement leading up to the premier and everyone's arrival had been palpable. His entire body like one big nerve ending – sending him into sensory overload with all the sights and sounds and smells around him. It felt like he'd only just arrived and was seeing it all for the first time; the city lights of Los Angeles were brighter, the traffic noisier, the air crisper. Everything excited him – but primarily it was the thought of seeing Brian again.

It had been a long several months (well, seven months really!) – pre-production, then production, then post-production. He was only supposed to be in LA for two or three months, but that had slowly stretched on, seemingly endlessly but Justin didn't really notice. He was working, and drawing, and making art that he was fucking proud of! He didn't think to take Brian's long stretches of silence, or his muted (and obviously false) excitement over Justin's opportunity as anything more serious than a man simply missing his favorite ass. Not that Justin saw himself that way – and he knew Brian was getting whatever sexual relief he needed from the denizens of Liberty Avenue. There was no shortage of men who'd gladly bend over for Brian Kinney.

Still. Justin should have paid more attention. Maybe things would have gone differently…

Much of Brian's behavior during the months Justin was in LA should have clued him in to the fact that something was not quite right. But Justin was so far "in it" he couldn't see, and none of his friends in Pittsburgh bothered to warn him either. Though maybe they hadn't seen it, either.

"I'm sorry honey," his mother was there, arms around him, hugging him to her chest. Justin could just see over her shoulder and his heart broke when he saw a tear slip from Daphne's eye and travel slowly down her cheek.

Brian wasn't coming. Ever. Like a coward he'd taken the easy way out, and simply decided for them both how it was going to be. Like he always did.

Everyone was staying at the same hotel, a few blocks from Justin's apartment (Brett had gently asked him to move out of the guest house after four months…) and later, after everyone had wordlessly gone their separate ways to settle in and recover from the long flight, Justin had slowly walked home.

He knew what was going on, he got it, but it still hadn't sunk in and he still didn't get _why_.

This was the biggest thing Justin might ever do – the greatest accomplishment he'd achieved thus far – and the one person he most wanted to share it with hadn't even bothered to come; hadn't bothered to call, or write, or tell anyone anything. Everyone had been shocked and angry when Brian never showed up to the airport. Hell, he'd even paid for the flights for many of them.

But Justin knew. And though he was numb to it at the moment he also knew, later, after everyone had gone back home to Pennsylvania and he had no more distractions, that he'd feel it. It would come fast, and without warning, and he wondered if it might kill him. The pain.

No one else in his life could inflict as much pain on him as Brian could. Justin knew that from experience. Too much experience.

But it had never entered his mind that Brian wouldn't come. Justin had never, in a million years, thought it would end this way.

The night of the premiere saw everyone excited, even with the damper that Brian's absence had put on the entire trip. Still, Daphne's infectious grinning while they walked the red carpet, her squeals of delight at seeing a pretty impressive roster of who's who in Hollywood, all lifted Justin's spirits, even if it was only for a few hours.

Later at the after-party it hit him, hard and without warning. He'd gone to the restroom and upon pulling open the door he saw Michael wrapped in Ben's arms and openly weeping, muttering over and over something about "how could he do this to me. We're best friends".

Justin stood there for a minute or so, staring at the scene before him and trying to control the anger and pitiful loathing he felt for Michael in that moment. He wanted to rush in and scream into Michael's face that he wasn't the only one Brian hurt. That he didn't have the monopoly on the pain of his brutal dismissal and his cruel avoidance of their repeated unanswered calls and unanswered messages.

But he didn't. He simply backed out of the restroom and sought solace in the open bar. He wasn't sure exactly how he got home that night, but seeing Daphne asleep on his sofa the next morning, still in her dress from the premiere, gave him a pretty good idea.

The days following the premiere, the group of people Justin considered his friends and family took to the streets of Los Angeles to do some sight-seeing. Justin was supposed to play tour guide, but he had neither the energy nor the interest to "pretend" with them. Not when he could see the looks and hear the whispers. Not when he knew they all felt sorry for him. And as much as he appreciated their support, he couldn't handle the pity.

He didn't want to listen to Melanie rage against Brian, calling him out for every damned thing he'd ever done to her; he didn't want to see Emmett's mournful stares and hear his sniffles or see his tears; he didn't want to watch Michael milk the group for attention with his victimization. Justin simply wanted them all to go away.

Then, on the third day, the day before everyone left to go back to their own lives, Lindsay showed up at his place. She was alone, for which Justin was thankful. He thought Lindsay, and maybe his mother, and of course Daphne, were the only people he had any tolerance for anymore.

"I talked to him," Lindsay said as soon as she was inside and had slipped off her coat.

"And?" Daphne stood next to Justin, her hands on her hips and her jaw set. Justin would have laughed if he didn't feel like his entire existence was hinging on what Lindsay said next.

"And nothing," Lindsay shook her head and stared at Justin with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen on her face. "He didn't say a single word to me. He had nothing to say, which is how I know that he hates himself for what he did. He's miserable, and probably beating himself up."

"Are you kidding me? Are you actually feeling sorry for him after what he did?" Daphne crossed her arms.

"Stop it, Daph," Justin sighed, looking at Lindsay and realizing that no matter how much she helped him, or tried to support him in his art, she would always be Brian's friend first and foremost and suddenly he wasn't just losing the man he'd loved for years, but the surrogate family that had taken him in when no one else would. Because they'd all been Brian's friends first, and they'd all choose him. Everyone always chose him.

"Thanks for letting me know," Justin smiled stiffly, suddenly feeling the loss of an entire family, not just the man he'd loved so completely for four years of his life.

"Brian was wrong not to come," Lindsay said then, looking between Justin and Daphne, "he was wrong to do what he did and I want you to know that I don't think I can forgive him for this. For hurting you like this."

"You don't have to say that," Justin said quietly, feeling Daphne's hand land on his back and start to rub small circles. Justin appreciated Lindsay's words, but he wasn't sure he believed them. Brian had a strange, magnetic hold over her, like with Michael, and Justin wasn't sure even this was terrible enough behavior to force Lindsay from his life. Not that she could be forced from his life, she was still the mother of Brian's son.

"Justin," she moved closer, setting her hands on Justin's shoulders, "I'm on your side here. Just because I think Brian might be sorry, or regret what he did doesn't mean I'm going to forgive him for it. Or let him reassume whatever old patterns of behavior he had in the past. Not with me. I'm just so shocked, and hurt on your behalf. I don't want to believe he's this cruel. But I suppose I know he is. We all know he is. No matter how much we wish he'd change."

Justin forced a smile, but he was still unsure. It would remain to be seen how close these people, who had been Brian's friends first, would remain with Justin going forward.

"I just wanted you to know. I just…I'm sorry," Lindsay pulled him to her then, and Justin accepted her embrace, willing himself to maintain composure. He didn't want to shed a single tear in front of anyone. He wouldn't be weak, and he wouldn't break.

"Thank you," Justin mumbled into her shoulder before she let him go.

"Now, Mel and I are taking Gus and JR to Disneyland. Then we're back to Pittsburgh first thing in the morning so I'm not sure when I'll see you again," Lindsay looked at Justin and he thought he saw a hopeful expectation in her expression.

"I'm staying here," Justin said solemnly while feeling a white-hot rage boiling in his gut, "at least for a while."

"Good," she gave him a small smile while pulling on her jacket, "I mean, I think it's good you're living your own life."

Justin nodded and with one more quick hug, Lindsay was suddenly gone and Justin was alone with his one true friend once more.

"What the fuck, Justin," Daphne was staring at the closed door Lindsay had just departed through. "Does everyone wear rose-colored glasses when it comes to that asshole?"

Justin gave a shrill laugh, finding that statement ironic, "You used to be one of them," he lightly punched her shoulder before collapsing on his sofa. He felt unsteady, unsure, and so very angry.

"Yeah, well, I can only stand to see him hurt you so many times before I start to think you're better off without him," she plopped down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

Justin clenched his jaw, swallowing the rage that was threatening to burst forth and take him to a place he didn't want to go, a place he hadn't been in a very long time.

"I love you, Daph," Justin finally sighed, leaning his head on hers and taking her hand, using it as a lifeline. They remained like that for a long time, sitting together each lost to their own thoughts, the only sound being the traffic of West Hollywood rolling by outside, unaware of the emotional turmoil and pain one young man felt.

* * *

Justin's mother and Daphne stayed in LA a few more days after everyone else had gone back to Pittsburgh. Justin saw they were concerned. No one had been able to reach Brian again after Lindsay had, but Justin thought maybe everyone might have stopped trying.

Justin was desperate for him though, and as angry as he was he still just _needed to know_. So he kept trying to call – yet each time the voicemail answered instead of the man, the rage inside Justin would grow a little larger. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it under control.

When Daphne and his mom left and he was once again alone, he allowed himself to feel the rage. He threw things, and broke things, and very nearly shredded the one and only photo he had of he and Brian – but his rational mind took over just long enough to make him doubt if he really wanted to do that. Instead he shoved it in the back of his freezer – but that didn't help remove the man from occupying every thought Justin had.

It was a few days later that Justin came to a terrifying realization…one that occupied every waking hour of his life. He was unable to eat, his sleep was restless and full of strange dreams that weren't quite nightmares, and his chest broke out in hives from the worry and stress of this one, awful thought. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer and he called his mother, begging her to check on Brian – to just make sure he was okay. That he wasn't sick again.

It made sense to Justin – that if the cancer had come back of course Brian would push him away and what better way to do that then when he's out of the state, and across the fucking country.

He didn't want it to be true, for Brian's sake, but he also secretly hoped it was true because at least that was something he could fight against. That was something he could handle – a real reason for Brian's behavior. What would be worse was finding out there was nothing wrong with him, and Brian simply didn't care enough to come.

…which is what his mother essentially told him when she called a few days later. She told him Brian had insisted he was fine. Not sick at all.

Justin hung up the phone feeling completely worthless and hating every damn thing in the world, including Brian and himself.

He stopped trying to call Brian after that.

* * *

For the next several months Justin was in a state of limbo; sometimes he felt okay, like he was getting over it but then something would happen to send him right back to the beginning and he thought he might die from the roller coaster ride of emotions he felt powerless to control. He wasn't working on anything new, and had too much time on his hands yet no motivation to do anything; or when he did have motivation it was so manic in its presentation that he couldn't rein it in enough to do anything about it.

He was living off his savings, much of it from the boosted sales of Rage the comic, as well as some residuals from the movie. He wasn't sure he could have held down a job even if one was to present itself. And it was a good thing he and Michael had come up with the next several issues of Rage months earlier – they had enough of them in the bag to publish once a month for the next year before they would run out of stories to tell and Justin wasn't really all that sure he could continue once they had to. He found thinking of Brian and Rage sucked all the creativity out of him. He wasn't sure he could ever do the comic again. But he and Michael talked about it – they commiserated together, and took solace in each other's anger and pain about Brian. It was surprising to Justin that Michael would want to talk to him at all, but Justin gave Michael the attention he needed, and shockingly, Michael gave Justin validation in his anger as well. They briefly discussed what they might do when they needed to start up with Rage again, but decided to table the discussion for a while until they were both a little less angry. Justin wondered to himself if he'd ever feel less angry again.

He talked to Daphne too, but not as often once her semester started back up – she was incredibly busy finishing her pre-Med curriculum and couldn't be Justin's shoulder to cry on as much as she'd used to be. So Justin had to seek out comfort from other people, including Lindsay, and Emmett.

They were consolatory, but Justin found himself comforting Emmett most of the time, or wondering about Lindsay's true feelings. He couldn't be mad at her, or upset that she still saw Brian – he was Gus's father after all. But Justin also knew that eventually they'd make up and Lindsay would be less of a shoulder to lean on when that happened, and so he slowly phased out using Lindsay as a means of therapy. But even with the people he did talk to, Brian continued to consume him.

Six months after the premiere and Justin still wasn't free of him. There had been talk of a Rage movie sequel, and Justin had been contacted by Brett Keller to work on it. He didn't say no, though he seriously doubted his abilities to keep a professional tone. It turned out not to have mattered – though they'd had several pre-production meetings and though they'd gotten through two drafts of a script, the studio ultimately decided to put Rage out of its misery and pulled the plug. Justin only wished they'd done so with the first movie – then he wouldn't be in this mess.

Summer ended and Justin had nothing to show for it. No job (still), no new friends (still), not even a fucking tan…He'd spent the entire year, since the premiere, wallowing and miserable and even though he hated it he didn't know how to stop. It had become a part of him and he hated Brian for making him feel so worthless and less than human.

Daphne, his mother, Emmett, Deb, all of them insisted he needed to get out – to start living his life again. Justin denied to them that wasn't doing just that, though he knew they knew he was lying. Still – they couldn't understand, they didn't understand. They were across the country, living their lives and moving on while Justin was stuck in a place he still didn't know, surrounded by people who only cared about themselves, and missing everything his life had been in Pittsburgh and wasn't in Los Angeles. He and Brian might not have been happy all the time, or an ideal couple, but they had worked; at least Justin thought they'd worked. Had it all been a ruse?

The Friday before Labor Day weekend, Justin was out picking up some groceries when he saw a flyer for a drag show at _Lei'd_, the local dance club he frequented on occasion. Deciding it was time he tried to get back to his own life, Justin made plans to attend that night and when he did, he found himself back in the bed of one Connor James.

It was the perfect scenario, and Justin used Connor quite effectively to push away any thoughts of Brian and all the associated emotions. They were together every night, usually at Connor's place. Justin let him do anything he wanted, and he welcomed the feel of him because he wasn't like Brian.

Connor knew it was nothing more than physical – and he never tried to kiss Justin or cuddle with him afterwards and at first Justin appreciated that. But as the months stretched on and the sex became slightly boring and predictable, Justin started to want more. He wanted to be kissed, and caressed, and held afterwards because the last person who had done those things to him was Brian, and Justin was determined to erase those sense memories from his mind.

Connor was reluctant at first – the first time Justin went in for a kiss he actually asked him what he was doing. But when Justin assured him it wasn't about love, or feelings, Connor reluctantly gave in. But it didn't work. Kissing Connor, like fucking him, was just different than kissing (or fucking) Brian. It didn't replace the memories Justin wanted gone, it only made Justin realize how much he missed kissing (and fucking) Brian.

As December ended (and Justin spent Christmas in Los Angeles, much to his mother's utter dismay, and though she tried to tell him Brian wasn't around Justin refused to listen, having long since stopped asking for any information about him – he simply didn't want to know) and January began (another new year) so came the "anniversary" of the premiere and a resurgence of Justin's heartache.

He couldn't believe it had been one year. It felt like no time had passed at all, yet also like it had been decades. Justin felt no better or worse than he had the first moment he'd realized Brian wasn't coming.

Added to that, things with Connor were no longer working the way Justin had wanted and hoped. Things between them had become so predictable and "normal" that it felt like they were in a relationship. Only it was a relationship where they never went out, or talked about anything other than Connor's auditions and the latest trade news and most importantly, where neither man cared for the other any more than just as a friend.

Justin was drinking more than he should, and taking whatever drugs Connor would bring home from the various parties he'd attend, and ignoring anything in his life that might resemble "real" or "emotion". By the end of February Justin was done with Connor James and once again lost in a sea of strangers who didn't give a shit about him.

He was also down to his last little bit of money, having taken the odd art job here and there, and though he and Michael were writing new issues of Rage, it had lost the magic and sales were noticeably slipping. Justin knew it wouldn't be long before the comic would come to a painful end. He and Michael were both extremely disenchanted and done with any sort of hero worship of Brian Kinney. Justin knew they couldn't sustain the comic with the pain they both still felt. But they did their best – and Justin promised himself he'd continue to draw for as long as he and Michael thought it was worth the trouble of doing the comic.

But Justin was bored, and lonely, and miserable with his life. His mother had a new man (more age appropriate this time) that adored her and Molly, Daphne had started Medical School in New York and was out at the clubs every weekend, Lindsay had Gus in Vermont and was teaching art, Emmett's catering business was booming, Deb and Carl were planning a trip around the world courtesy of the Pennsylvania State Lottery, Melanie was in Baltimore with JR and last Justin had heard dating someone, Ted and Blake were going strong and happy, and even though Prop 14 had passed and the legality of Hunter's adoption was unclear, Michael and Ben were as happy as ever, too.

Justin had nothing to show for the last year except a damaged, blackened, and broken heart that, try as he might, he was unable to heal even just a little bit.

About a week later Justin got an email from one of the head of art direction from Rage, asking if he'd like to come in and do some work on a film. Justin jumped at the opportunity, ready to get out of his place and try to figure out how to move on with his life. A new job with new people could be just the thing he needed.

It was a good job; lasted for two months and gave Justin another cushion of money so he didn't need to rush out and find something else right away – but he did realize, as he worked with the other artists and designers, that he liked doing what he was doing, and he decided to try and pursue a more permanent career in art design for film and television.

He also made a few friends on his new job – people he could go out with, and chat with, and forget for just a little bit how dead he felt inside from Brian's blatant disregard for him.

So he lived his life, day to day getting by – sometimes forgetting for a little bit, but always remembering in the end. He tried to keep up with Daphne's sexual antics – apparently the only way to survive medical school is to have a lot of promiscuous sex – while attempting to maintain any sort of interest in the lives of his other friends from Pittsburgh; but really, talking to any of them simply reminded him of what he'd had and lost. So he slowly began to phase them all out of his life. Ted and Melanie were the first to go and it wasn't too difficult. Emmett was so busy that Justin was able to disconnect that lifeline as well without too many problems. Lindsay let go pretty easily too – though Justin would get random emails from her (a few a year) with news about Gus. Deb was harder to cut off, but when Rage finally did die a painful death and Justin and Michael collectively decided they would dissolve their business relationship Justin knew he could probably get rid of Debbie too. Not that she, or any of them, would be completely gone from his life. Deb and his mother were still very close. But he couldn't maintain those relationships anymore. All they did was remind him of when he'd been happy, and secure, and had known himself.

Anymore he didn't know himself. So many things had changed, and so fast, that Justin still felt like he was playing catchup. Even three years later he couldn't go a full week without having a breakdown triggered by one thing or another. He was constantly questioning everything in his life – and he traced the root of it back to Brian. Brian had never offered Justin one single thing that was steady and reliable, and for that he'd ruined him.

The only solace Justin found was in numbing the pain. And when his emotions were running high and he felt himself slipping down the slope into despair, he'd head out – not really cognizant that he was using Brian's methods of pain management – he'd go out and drink himself stupid, and let whoever showed any interest take him into a back room, or a bathroom, or even a damn alleyway. Justin knew it wasn't healthy, or safe, but he also didn't know what else he could do. He was stuck in a place he hated, and all he had within his control was his own behavior – and even if it was destructive it was his to own and his to do.

What he couldn't figure out was why he simply could not let the shit with Brian go. He couldn't figure out why it was looming, hanging over him relentlessly. It made him angry, and depressed, and vengeful. If he knew how to hurt Brian in return he would – but the only way to hurt Brian was to see him, and the only way to see him was to go back to Pittsburgh, and that would mean seeing everyone else, and Justin knew he had neither the emotional strength nor the willpower to do it. It was easier being across the country, but harder, too. It was easier to imagine all the awful things he could say and do to hurt Brian, but if he imagined actually saying or doing them it suddenly was terrifying and paralyzing because Justin thought he was stronger than that – he thought, after surviving the bashing and his father's wrath and the many, many times Brian had previously hurt him – he thought certainly he was strong enough and he was devastated to learn he wasn't.

As time passed and he'd been allowed the distance to look back, he wondered if he'd ever really _liked_ Brian all that much. They'd had their moments and they'd loved each other hard, and fast and brutally at times, but Justin wasn't sure if Brian was ever his friend. There had been times, moments; after the bashing, and during Stockwell, and even right after the cancer diagnosis, when things were good and Justin had felt like an equal. But looking back, Justin could only see Brian ruling him – setting the boundaries of their relationship to his terms, forcing Justin to compromise while he didn't compromise at all. Justin had never been his equal, and that's what made Justin so mad, even still. Brian took him in, molded him into what he wanted him to be, then shoved him out the door without another thought or another glance. Like he was nothing but another toy he'd gotten sick of. Justin wondered if Brian had ever really loved him. He'd maybe _cared_, and maybe he'd cared a lot – but love? No. Justin didn't think that had ever existed and he was starting to think Brian might be incapable of love at all.

So Justin worked, and tried to reconcile his life and his emotions with nothing to go on. No reasons, no excuses, no anything. Nothing but guessing and unanswered questions and still he used the only form of escapism he knew to get away from his own thoughts – drinking, sometimes drugs, and lots of casual, and many times anonymous, sex. His time with Brian had been good for something, it would seem.

His body was a wreck, and he felt like crap all the time, not just emotionally but physically. He'd completely forgotten what it felt like to be happy, or healthy.

He worked, and he went out, and he'd lie through his teeth to his mother and Daphne when they'd call.

"I'm great."

"Things are going great."

"Everything is great."

"LA is the best."

If they didn't believe him, they didn't let on. What surprised Justin was the persistence of Lindsay in reaching out to him. For awhile he'd avoided her calls and he'd ignored her emails, but still she kept at him. Finally, one day just out of plain curiosity he'd answered her call. A tiny part of him, the part that wouldn't give up hoping for a happy ending with Brian, thought maybe she was trying to call him with good news. It was only after he'd answered that he had a momentary paralyzing thought that maybe something bad had happened to Gus…or Brian.

But it hadn't. They were both fine. Or at least Gus was fine, and Justin assumed Brian was fine since Lindsay didn't say anything about him. What she did do was offer Justin something of a reprieve. She read between the lines, she heard the unspoken pain and she let him own it. She didn't try to tell him he'd eventually get over it, or that it'd been four years now and he should really move on, or that he needed to go out and meet someone new. She just let him talk – and it was the first time Justin felt any kind of reprieve from the constant ache inside.

He had Daphne who wanted to help, of course, but she was so busy with her school and her boys that Justin didn't feel right laying his shit on her. And his mother was far too emotional involved (and angry at Brian) to be any help – and so Lindsay it was.

He didn't want to talk to her long, or all the time, but when he needed to be grounded, to be given permission to feel, he would call her. And she would listen and let him. And for Justin it was everything. And when Prop 14 was overturned by the Pennsylvania courts and Ted and Blake decided to marry, it was Lindsay who convinced Justin to come back. She promised him Brian would not be there – or anywhere – and Justin took a chance on that being true. He needed to see people and feel like a part of family again – even if only for a little while. It ended up hurting more than helping though, and afterwards Justin promised himself he'd never go back to Pittsburgh. There were too many memories and even if Brian hadn't been there physically, he had been there spiritually and Justin couldn't escape the feel of him. For Justin it was the longest and hardest three days he'd had since the days immediately following the premier and Brian's noted absence.

In April of 2009, when Rage the comic officially died, Justin began another desperate search for work. The profits from the comic book had been declining for the last year, and he barely made enough off the sales to cover one month's rent. Now that he and Michael were no longer producing any more books he knew he had to get more work – he had to assert himself and find something. He didn't want to run home to his mother, and he certainly didn't want to have to resort to being a go-go boy again.

Mid-month, as he was thumbing through the trades in a small café, he stumbled across a position in the art department for a period drama that was scheduled for a Christmas-time release. It was a lower position than what he'd held on Rage, and it paid less, but Justin didn't care. Amid the countless ads for PA's and being a glorified errand runner for some asshole actor or director, it was one of the few art-related gigs he could find. Granted, he didn't have experience in period-drama, but he was excellent at research and it was something new and different. He wanted that – new and different was just what he needed.

Luckily for Justin, one of the other assistants on the film knew him from Rage, and with his resume and portfolio of work he was offered the position on the spot.

Justin was incredibly thankful for the job. The hours were long but the work was interesting. He found himself honing his drawing skills and though his hand would get tired after an eight to ten hour day of drawing, there were not as many tremors as before, and he even thought he was improving in certain techniques. It was something positive he could focus on, and while working Justin easily avoided all thoughts of Brian. He even smiled and laughed – things that had been rare occurrences the last few years.

The downside was when he'd get home, to a place dark and lonely, his smiles would disappear and it was all he could do not to drink himself into a blackout.

He felt like he was living a double life. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

As the pre-production and art design for the film neared completion, Justin was approached by the art director, Ross Hastings, and offered a permanent position with his firm, and a sizeable raise to go along with it. Justin accepted on the spot, and felt a stress he hadn't realized he'd been carrying, lift. He was still weighed down with shit he'd rather toss away, but knowing he could pay his bills and buy groceries was a big relief. Justin called his mother, then Daphne, and finally Lindsay to share the news. He was happy, and light on his feet on his walk home – but the moment he stepped over the threshold of his place he felt the darkness descend, and for the rest of the night Justin wallowed in a bottle of Beam and a few pills of ecstasy.

Three weeks into the new job, Justin was finally settling into a routine. He was beginning to feel comfortable, like he might have a purpose after all. He was beginning to think maybe he wasn't as worthless as Brian had made him feel. Though he still felt infuriated that he could not get Brian-fucking-Kinney out of his fucking head. Even four years later the man still held sway, he still had a power over Justin. So he used his work as his new escape, and his use of alcohol and drugs and men lessened somewhat, and Justin became the kind of workaholic that would make a man (like Brian) proud.

One afternoon, putting some finishing touches on some sketches for a romantic comedy, Ross approached him and asked if he'd like to go on a little field trip. It would seem the film studio producing the period drama they'd just finished pre-production on was having some trouble with their designs and the director needed to meet with them. So Justin and Ross headed into Studio City to meet and appease the studio.

They arrived a little early, the traffic pretty smooth for the time of day they were driving, so Ross showed Justin around the lot, leading them straight into a live recording of an orchestra in the middle of a large, empty parking lot, a giant green screen hanging behind them. Ross and Justin hung back, watching as the musicians played and the cameras wove their way through the players. Justin didn't recognize the music, but it was soothing and pleasing. When the song had ended and the director had yelled cut, Justin watched, amused, as the musicians scattered to the four corners, disappearing into trailers. A group of them were walking towards Justin and Ross and before he could stop himself, Justin reached out and grabbed the arm of the one nearest him.

"Excuse me," he smiled at the man and his three female companions as they all stopped, "what was this all for?"

The man smiled and for the first time in years, Justin felt his heart skip a beat. The man was classically handsome and had a bright green eyes and a wide smile with two deep dimples.

"The director wanted to film us outside, for the closing credits sequence. They're gonna add some special effects. It's some alien invasion movie I think," he shrugged.

"You think?" Justin laughed, noticing the foursome were carrying violins.

"Well it's the first day, and we've only just gotten the sheet music," the man smiled again and Justin couldn't help but smile back.

"Things change fast in Hollywood," he added, "today an alien invasion, tomorrow an alien romantic comedy."

"I see," Justin laughed.

"Justin, we gotta go," Ross jumped in then, and Justin smiled apologetically to the other man.

"Well good luck," Justin said before walking away with Ross. He glanced over his shoulder to find the man staring after him, and he felt a slight thaw begin on his cold heart. He felt like a man coming back to life.

* * *

The meeting they had went well, but Justin was distracted by the mystery man with the bright eyes, great smile, and violin. He asked Ross if he could find out who he was, and Ross said he'd try. The feeling he got when he recalled the mystery man became Justin's newest addiction – he obsessed over it and the way it made him feel, namely, not worthless or lonely or pathetic. He felt a tiny glimmer of hope that maybe he'd be able to finally move on from Brian.

A few days later, feeling good from a productive day at work and anxious to tell someone about the handsome, mysterious musician he'd developed an unexpected crush on, Justin tried calling Daphne. She didn't answer, and when his mother also didn't answer Justin called the only other person he was still in contact with – Lindsay. He just needed someone to share in the joy he felt of finally taking that first step towards moving on. He needed to let someone know that for the first time in years he finally felt like he was heading in the right direction rather than standing still or worse, moving backwards.

"I met someone," Justin blurted after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

"You did? Who? Tell me everything," Lindsay's voice was soft, but excited at the same time.

"Well, I don't know his name, and we only talked for about a minute, but he made me feel…he made me…he made my heart skip a beat," Justin grinned up at his ceiling, his heart racing a little faster just recalling the brilliant smile of the mystery man.

"That's great! I'm so glad," Lindsay replied, her voice still slightly strained, like she was intentionally speaking quietly.

"I'm trying to find out who he is-," Justin started, but he paused when he heard Gus yelling in the background.

"Shit, hold on," Lindsay said, her tone taking on a concerning sound.

Justin heard muffling sounds, like she was pressing the phone against her hand. But that didn't stop him from hearing what was said on the other end of the phone line.

The words were soft, but clear, and Justin heard it all.

"What Gus, I'm on the phone."

"Dad needs you now!"

And in that split second Justin's mood plummeted and as he realized, horrifyingly, that Brian was in the same house as Lindsay – the Lindsay he had just confessed to, to meeting a new guy – he thought he might be sick. Without a word or a moment's pause he ended the call and tossed his cell phone onto the coffee table. It rang several times a few minutes later, and Justin saw Lindsay's name and number on the screen but he didn't answer. He was frozen…shocked. Though he shouldn't have been. He'd known eventually Lindsay and Brian would make up, and Brian was Gus's father…but he had been there. He was there...

Brian was there. In that house. Now.

Suddenly Justin needed to get out. He needed to get as far away from everything as he could. Leaving his phone on the table he grabbed a jacket and headed for _Lei'd_. He needed someone to buy him drinks, give him drugs, and fuck him senseless. He needed to feel something…anything other than this awful twisting, white-hot pain. He needed to be able to breathe again, to take a step or two forward and not have that damned man on his mind at every turn forcing him five steps back. He needed to be able to live his fucking life. He needed to smile and laugh outside of work as well as at work…he needed to reclaim his life but fuck if he even knew where to start. He'd been living being miserable for so long it had become the norm, and now he had to break that norm and create a new one – and that was as terrifying as the thought that maybe Brian had never loved him at all.

_Lei'd_ was packed, and not five minutes after he'd walked in the door Justin had been propositioned three times. Choosing a type that was as far from the "Brian Kinney"-type he usually went for, Justin led a small, thin dark-haired and dark-skinned guy to the back room and let him suck him off while he fingered his ass. As dark-haired, dark-skinned guy finished up and turned to leave, a blonde surfer-dude type came up and without a word offered Justin a tab of ecstasy. At least Justin thought it was ecstasy. He took it wordlessly and then leaned back against the wall as blonde surfer-dude proceeded to put the blow-job Justin had just gotten to shame. Justin moaned loudly as he came, shooting into blonde surfer-dude's mouth and silently rejoicing as several of the guys around him turned to look with interest. Blonde surfer-dude tried to lead Justin out of the backroom then but a large, muscled brunet stopped him and pushed Justin back up against the wall.

"I'd like some of that," he said, licking his lips as his eyes traveled down to Justin's dick. His pubic hair was peeking out the top of his half-buttoned up pants.

"Got any 'E'?" Justin asked, the effects of the first one he'd taken not yet presenting themselves and Justin was desperate to feel anything other than the reality he was living in.

The muscled guy grinned and pulled a tiny plastic bag out of his pocket, offering it to Justin. With a smirk, Justin pulled two pills from the bag and tossed them both into his mouth. The muscled guy grinned wider and raised his eyebrows.

"So, you want to party," he growled, leaning in to bite at Justin's neck while his hands gripped Justin's wrists and he pinned him against the wall.

Justin could feel the muscled man's cock, rock hard, pressing against his stomach. From the feel of him he was huge, and suddenly Justin was a little nervous about what he'd started.

"We can go back to my place and party hard," the muscled guy breathed, biting a little too hard on Justin's ear.

"Maybe we can dance first, and get a drink?" Justin cooed, pushing against the muscled guy in an attempt to escape the backroom.

"A little public performance?" The muscled guy let go of one of Justin's wrists and stepped back, pulling Justin behind him as he led him out from the backroom to the dance floor.

The music was too loud though, and the lights too bright. Justin nearly fell as the strobes flashed in his face, temporarily blinding him.

"Whoa, can't hold your drugs?" the muscled guy was in his face, grinning too wide. His eyes were wild and they looked like they were on fire. Justin panicked.

"Let go of me!" he yelled, yanking his hand away hard. He barely got it loose, and likely he did only because the muscled guy had not been expecting it.

"Fuck you, you fucking tease!" the muscled guy yelled, his face screwing up in anger.

Justin backed away slowly, the room spinning around him uncontrollably and he immediately regretted taking three tabs of E.

"I gave you drugs, you owe me," the muscled guy reached out and grabbed Justin's wrist again, so tightly Justin felt his bones compress and his tendons shift painfully under his skin.

"Ow! Fuck off asshole! I don't owe you shit," Justin tried to pull away again, but the muscled guy was expecting it and he just squeezed tighter.

"You're hurting me," Justin panted, his chest tightening as his vision started to tunnel. The music was so loud he could feel the bass beating in his chest; the lights were so bright he could feel the heat from them causing him to break out in a sweat.

The muscled guy was staring at Justin with a look on his face that terrified him, and just as he was about to try and fight his way out of his grasp there appeared between them two more guys. The taller one of the two grabbed the muscled guy's arm and pushed him away, roughly. Justin felt the skin on his wrist burn painfully before the pressure was gone and his arm was free. The shorter guy, who Justin thought he knew but he wasn't quite sure, was in his face, talking to him, appearing concerned, but Justin couldn't quite hear what he was saying; rather, he could hear the words but he couldn't understand them.

That was when he blacked out.

When Justin woke up again, he was in a bed in a room he didn't recognize. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows around him. The room was quiet, and Justin could just hear the occasional sound of a car pass by on the street outside.

Sitting up, he groaned. His head throbbed and his mouth had an awful taste – like he'd thrown up but then hadn't brushed his teeth.

Looking around he tried to figure where he was; he could vaguely remember the events of the night before and he looked down at his left wrist to see it was discolored and slightly swollen. Just then the door to the room opened.

"You," Justin croaked, giving a half-smile.

It was the musician he'd briefly talked to those weeks ago on the studio lot; the one with the bright green eyes and the beautiful, dimpled smile.

He smiled and Justin once again was taken aback by the brilliance of it. He held out a glass of water and Justin took it with his right hand, nodding thanks and downing half the glass right away.

"Where am I and how did I get here?" Justin then asked, a million other questions going through his head at the same time.

"My place. My roommate and I brought you back here," the guy sat on the edge of the bed and watched while Justin took another drink of the water. "You were pretty messed up last night."

Justin nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed for his behavior. Messed up was a bit of an understatement, really.

"And, uh, who are you?" Justin asked awkwardly after another sip of water.

"Aaron. Aaron Ashland."


	6. Confide Here

"_lay here it's safe here I'll let you be broken open  
hide here confide here so we can be broken open"_

**October 2012  
**Justin****

"How was the concert tonight?"

Justin was lying on the bed in his hotel room, his cell nestled in the crook of his neck as he channel surfed. The only light in the room was the illumination of the muted television, and with each channel change the colors in the room changed, a bit like Justin's moods since seeing Brian earlier. Blue, green, red, yellow, white…nothing constant, nothing steady, nothing he could count on. It was all a big mess, changing moment to moment and it was quite torturous.

Not finding anything too interesting, and tired of the barrage of images assaulting him as the channels cycled one after another, he settled on a home and garden show, watching as people he didn't know redecorated a back patio and listening as Aaron talked about the last few performances of the Symphony. He was still in Boston, and would be until the last weekend of November. Justin missed him – more so now that Brian had suddenly reappeared in his life for a second time.

"How's New York?" Aaron finally asked and Justin sighed heavily.

He didn't want to tell Aaron about seeing Brian again. Not because he wanted to hide it from him, but rather because he didn't want to have to go back and explore those feelings and emotions yet again. Telling Aaron about Brian had been a huge catharsis, one he'd thought had cured him of the gaping, wounded hole that had remained in his heart from that awful time all those years ago. But it hadn't. Seeing Brian again had only made the gaping, wounded hole reassert itself and grow larger; seeing Brian again had only made the lack of resolution of his feelings towards the man who'd been everything to him for so long all the more apparent.

He couldn't lie; he wouldn't lie. That wasn't how they worked as a couple and Justin wanted nothing more than to make sure they survived this…didn't he?

"Babe? What is it?" Aaron's tone grew worried.

"Fuck. It's nothing. Just…," Justin sighed again, "I ran into someone unexpected."

"Someone…," Aaron's voice trailed off and Justin could almost hear through the phone the wheels turning in his head. "You mean Brian? You saw him there? In New York?"

He sounded disbelieving, and Justin wanted nothing more than to tell him he was wrong, but Aaron wasn't wrong and so he said nothing and then it was Aaron's turn to sigh.

"What happened this time," he prodded softly, though Justin thought he detected a note of frustration.

"I was with Jerry in Chelsea scouting for shooting locations. There are some great abandoned, waterfront warehouses along the Hudson. Afterwards we went our separate ways and met up again a few hours later at this bar Jerry goes to sometimes. He wanted to play pool but all the tables were full so we sat at the bar. Then suddenly Brian was there and he just started talking. It was really strange."

Strange was the understatement of the millennium, but Justin left it at that – there was no need to burden Aaron with his confusion. He couldn't help, and he'd only make things more muddled for Justin.

"Apparently he lives in New York," Justin added, offering a soft laugh as if to try and send Aaron a message; like _haha this situation is so funny don't you think_? Only it wasn't funny. It sucked.

He wanted to be angry that no one had told him Brian had moved, but he couldn't be. After everything had happened Justin had made it abundantly clear to everyone that he didn't want to hear about Brian in any way, shape, or form. And really why would they tell him? Justin lived in LA so it shouldn't have mattered; they should never have crossed paths again. Except now they had, and Justin was feeling conflicted and confused and angry all over again.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asked and Justin heard the restraint in his voice.

"Yes," Justin said. "Brian only spoke to me for a few minutes. He was there with someone."

Aaron had been more than understanding after Justin had told him about his past with Brian, but that was when both men thought Brian would be gone from their lives again; after they'd thought the meeting in Boston was a one time, random thing. Neither one of them could have thought this would happen. And Justin knew Aaron was likely crawling out of his skin because of it – hell, Justin knew he would be if Aaron told him he kept running into an ex, especially if it was an ex that had a past with him like kind of past Justin had with Brian.

"I should come to New York," Aaron blurted and Justin smiled, his heart warming with the possessive and protective tone in Aaron's voice. It felt nice to have someone be so outwardly jealous over him. It felt nice to be so desired.

"Don't. I'm flying back to LA tomorrow morning."

"I thought you were staying there for a few days?" Aaron asked.

"I got enough of what I needed today so I'll just head back a day early. It's no big deal," Justin said, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Sure. No big deal," Aaron's tone had shifted and he suddenly sounded slightly angry.

"Are you pissed?" Justin asked, sitting up and switching the phone to his other ear.

"No," he answered curtly.

"Yes you are. You're pissed at me. Why? I didn't do anything wrong," Justin said gently as he turned off the television and the room descended into darkness.

"Forget it."

"No. Tell me what's pissed you off," Justin stood from the bed and walked through the dark room to the window. He had a nice view of the Hudson, and he could see a boat slowly moving upriver, its lights flashing. He wondered where Brian lived and if he had a view of the river; if he was standing at his own window, watching this same boat; if that other man was with him, if they were naked and holding each other…

"Just forget it," Aaron sighed, disrupting Justin's very dangerous train of thought.

"Just fly back home. Run away again," Aaron spoke coolly and Justin could only close his eyes and lean his forehead against the cold glass of the window. He hated when Aaron got into one of his moods – there was nothing to do but let him go through it. Justin was all too familiar with them – their first year together was full of them, especially when Justin had a particularly rough day emotionally. Aaron had never understood that about Justin. Aaron could be caring and sensitive, but he couldn't understand depression or anxiety or loneliness. Aaron had never been abandoned without hope. So his patience would wear thin sometimes, and not that often especially after they'd been together for some time. Still – Justin could see that was where this outburst was coming from and so he just let him expel his anger. He knew it wasn't really directed at him, but rather at the situation that was fucking up their comfortable life. And Justin could understand that reaction – hell, he wanted to scream and rail and throw a fit too, but it wouldn't resolve anything.

"We can talk more tomorrow," Aaron added after a long silence.

"Yeah," Justin sighed.

"I love you," Aaron said and Justin, for the first time since Aaron had whispered those words into his ear – his cock buried to the hilt as he came inside him, for the first time felt some uncertainty that he really loved Aaron back.

* * *

The following morning Justin awoke with a fresh perspective and the realization that of course he loved Aaron – it simply wasn't all-consuming and all-overpowering like his love for Brian was…had been? Is?

Whatever he still felt or didn't feel for Brian, Aaron was right about one thing, Justin was running away. But he didn't care. He didn't care if it sounded weak, or if it made him look pathetic, or childish, or weak, or whatever. He was okay with it and his opinion of himself was the only opinion he'd learned really mattered. It had taken him a long time to learn to live his life for himself and not for others, and he'd be damned if he was going to change that now.

No; he would rather go back to Los Angeles early and risk the wrath of Ross than stay one more day in Chelsea and run the risk of bumping into Brian again. Because Justin had a pretty good idea what might happen should he see Brian again…the long buried feelings and emotions inside him were already stirred up enough, he didn't need fuel for that fire and he knew if he saw Brian, if he talked to him, he'd quickly be holding a raging bonfire in his chest. Justin knew, the more he saw of Brian, the more the other man would worm his way back into his life and the more Justin would have to face the unresolved conflict he still felt inside. And Justin didn't want to face it any longer – he was over it. He was ready to bury it where it could never be disturbed again and the only place he could safely do that was in LA, and with Aaron.

He just wanted desperately to move on. He wanted to be with Aaron. He felt safe, and happy, and secure with Aaron. He didn't want Aaron to doubt he loved him, because he did love him.

But he loved Brian, too, and that was just a fact. One he'd reluctantly realized the truth of somewhere over Nevada. But what could he do about it? What was there to do about it? Brian was old news, they'd tried and they'd failed and it had taken Justin a very long time to heal himself from that. It was dangerous to think about going back. But the conflicting emotions he felt for the two men, which had been easy to ignore the last few years, were becoming less so.

Justin had never expected to be face to face with Brian ever again. But now he had been; twice. And now Justin had to face that fact that he was in love two men, albeit in vastly different ways, and he had to face the fact that one way or another he needed to figure out how to let one of the men go.

* * *

The subsequent days Justin was trapped inside his own head. Justin did still love Brian. He supposed he always would. But whether that was something he could live with, or whether it was even healthy, was another matter altogether. What he knew was seeing Brian yet again, in that bar in Chelsea, had been even more of a surprising gut punch than seeing him in Boston had been.

The choice – Aaron or Brian – should have been easy; a no-brainer. Aaron was everything Justin had ever wanted. Someone who loved him, who challenged him, who respected him, who admired him, who always made him laugh and sometimes make him cry.

Brian was…someone who always made him cry and sometimes make him laugh. Yes, Justin could recall moments when it seemed Brian had respected him, or admired him, and dare he think maybe loved him? But the more Justin thought about it the angrier it made him because even when things between them were the best they'd ever been, Brian always made Justin uncertain about everything; Justin always had to "guess" if Brian was feeling one thing or another; Justin had to hope he was reading the very mixed and veiled signals correctly and it was fucking hard. It was partly why he'd left Brian for Ethan – to a disastrous end. And it was partly why he went back after Ethan – because as much as Brian kept hidden from him, there was also just enough he offered to appease Justin – and he lived for those moments; those nuggets. But in the end, aside from the sex (which – truthfully – Aaron could never hope to equal Brian in bed, but Justin was plenty satisfied anyway), they never really made much sense together.

But it was Brian, and everything Justin hated about him he also loved about him. He wasn't an open book, and it was work to figure him out but when Justin did, on those rare occasions, he was blessed with a true insight into the man – and the man he saw in those moments, the one behind the mask, was fucking amazing and worth all the pain.

But there had been far more of the former than latter. More pain than pleasure. And after Brian left him in LA without a word or a phone call or even a fucking email or text message, Justin easily forgot those good parts. The moments that had made it all worth it. The bad far outweighed the good, not only in reality but also in memory.

Now though, after having seen Brian in Boston and then again in New York, he was reminded of the good – the moments few and far between that used to give him such joy.

Part of that was the fact that Brian was very noticeably different. The Brian Kinney Justin had known all those years ago was essentially gone; there were flickers of him there, in an expression, or a word, or a gesture, but he was inherently different and Justin was desperate to know why. He didn't want to believe it had been what had happened after Rage, but a small part of him held out a tiny bit of hope that Brian had realized how awful his behavior had been, and had striven to improve himself over the years. Hell, he'd lost all his friends and family after that, how could that not change a man?

But if that were true, why wouldn't he have come to LA or tried to call Justin and make amends so they could both put that horrible event behind them?

Justin knew the answer to that, too. No apologies, no regrets.

Justin wanted to laugh about it – that damn fucking mantra Brian would repeat over and over. A part of Justin had agreed to an extent – why regret something after it's done when it's done. Being regretful can't make something undone. But conversely, he also thought there was no shame in being remorseful for hurts inflicted or actions that had devastating effects.

As for the no apologies? Fuck that. Justin would have taken Brian back in a heartbeat – at least up to the day he and Aaron had met – if he'd just come to Justin and apologized.

But he hadn't, and Justin had met Aaron and now they were together and happy and…

…and what?

Something was still missing. And with thoughts of Brian in his head, for better or worse, Justin slowly began to realize what it was. It was excitement, and anticipation, and uncertainty. Things with Aaron were safe, and predictable, and comfortable and it wasn't that Justin didn't like those things because he did, but their relationship completely lacked anything else. He'd gone from one extreme to the other; and it was partially by design.

After Justin met Aaron he hadn't wanted excitement, or anticipation, or a playful sense of uncertainty because his life had been a mess for years because of all of those things. He'd needed to heal. But now he was better, and he was healed. He was shocked to discover he was bored.

But even more than that, he realized he desperately needed answers. The biggest revelation brought about from seeing Brian again was the desire Justin had to move on. He wanted to close the door on that chapter of his life. No matter what might happen afterwards, he wanted what had happened in the eight years since he'd been dumped by Brian on the streets of LA to be forever locked up in his past. Nothing lingering; no more unanswered questions or wounds festering. He wanted closure and try as he might to find an alternative solution, he could only come up with one way that could be achieved.

* * *

"Please don't ask me why, and please, please don't say anything to anyone," Justin prefaced his request. His heart was racing and his mouth was dry. He hated what he was doing while also feeling some of that missing excitement at the prospect of what could happen next.

"Okay," Lindsay replied slowly, cautiously.

"I need Brian's phone number," he said quietly and he just barely heard her breath catch.

"Sure," she replied finally and Justin could hear in her voice she was fighting back the urge to ask him why. But she didn't ask why, and Justin was both grateful and relieved because he was even having a hard time rationalizing this step to himself – though it made perfect sense, it was dangerous and he wasn't sure how Aaron would feel knowing what Justin might do.

She rattled off the numbers and Justin wrote them down with a slightly unsteady hand. He was terrified because the fact that he was asking meant he might actually need to make the call. It meant he was one step closer to closing that door and as much as he wanted to do it, he was also fucking terrified of the process of getting there, and what it would mean when the pain was finally gone forever.

"Be careful, please," she said then, and Justin smiled to himself.

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing," he said, partly for himself as much as for her. He paused, adding, "Just...just don't tell him you gave me his number. Okay? Please?"

"I won't. Don't worry. I'm more concerned that you're okay. I don't want you to backslide," she said.

"I won't. I'm not that guy anymore so don't worry, please. I have Aaron to anchor me and-," he paused, taking a shaky breath before continuing, "I just need to know. I need to hear, from him, why he did what he did because until that happens I won't be able to get over it. Not really. And I want to get over it. I want to move on. I'm ready to move on."

"Okay," she said, and Justin could hear the hesitant smile he imagined she wore on her voice. He was thankful for Lindsay's friendship - even if it had been strained for a little while, while Justin tried to get used to the idea that she could be friends with him and Brian at the same time.

"Give Gus a hug, or a high five, or whatever passes for cool with twelve year olds these days," Justin replied and Lindsay laughed.

"I will."

* * *

It was one thing to have Brian's cell phone number in his hand, and it was another to actually press the numbers and make the call. Justin spent the last weeks of October going about business as usual all the while knowing the phone number was there, in his hands waiting to be used.

He spent his hours at work, mindlessly drawing sketch after sketch while imagining a million different ways the conversation could go. Sometimes it ended well, sometimes it ended badly. Sometimes it ended with Justin fantasizing about he and Brian together and when that happened he had to excuse himself to the bathroom.

As October faded into November, Justin spent more time at work, and when he wasn't at work he was at the gym. He found being at home with Aaron still away in Boston, gave him too much time and space and freedom to continue his fantasies. And Justin didn't want to mar his home with Aaron with thoughts or images of Brian. So if he wasn't sleeping, he wasn't there.

Mid-November his mother called and asked him for the fourth time to please come back to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving. Molly would be home, and his mother wanted to spend the holiday with her two children.

Justin reluctantly agreed; the only saving grace the fact that Aaron could fly in from Boston and spend a long weekend with him there. In fact, it was the thought of that trip which spurred Justin, one night about a week before he was due to fly to Pittsburgh, to pull out his phone and dial Brian's number.

He panicked almost immediately, but he didn't hang up. Instead he stood in the middle of his apartment, his home with Aaron, while the phone on the other end rang, and rang, and rang before finally being answered by the electronic voicemail – it wasn't even a personalized message, which Justin was actually thankful for. Had he heard Brian's voice he might have said or done something he'd regret later.

Hanging up the phone before the message ended, he sighed.

Just making the call had been a huge step, and though he still didn't have the answers he sought, he knew he was one step closer to putting all that shit behind him. And with that realization, he smiled.

* * *

The studio was closing for the entire week of Thanksgiving so Justin flew out to Pittsburgh on the Sunday before the holiday. His mother was ecstatic to see him and Molly wouldn't stop chattering on about college. She was in her first year at Penn State and she absolutely loved it.

Aaron, who had a show on Sunday night and then the rest of the week off until the following Friday when he'd have to go back, would fly in arriving around dinner time. To pass the time until he saw Aaron again, Justin spent that Monday revisiting old haunts, and reacquainting himself with old friends.

His first stop was the Liberty Diner, and though his ears were ringing and his ribs were sore after Debbie was done squealing in his ear and squeezing the life out of him, he was happy he'd gone by. He hadn't seen Debbie since Ted and Blake's ceremony years earlier. He hadn't come back to Pittsburgh but a few times, and when he had, he hadn't wanted to see any of the people that would remind him of Brian. But now was different. He was working out those demons and exorcising Brian from his life. But he was also feeling nostalgic for the old connections he'd had in his life and he wanted to reconnect, renew the relationships. Debbie was high on that list, as a surrogate mother and someone who had almost literally saved his life on more than one occasion.

Justin promised to bring Aaron by to meet her before he left, on a mission to find Emmett next, and it was while searching for Emmett that Justin ran into Michael and Ben. They were coming out of Red Cape Comics and for a moment Justin almost didn't recognize them. Ben was thinner yet still in great shape, and Michael was starting to look slightly pudgy, with noticeable gray at his temples. It contrasted oddly with his baby-face.

The greeting was pleasant, but slightly awkward. After Rage the comic had died, Justin and Michael had stopped talking and seeing each other again after so long left a lot of lengthy pauses and awkward small talk. But Ben carried them through and soon Justin felt like no time had passed. Before they parted ways Justin found himself promising to bring Aaron over to their house for dinner before the week was out.

Justin couldn't find Emmett that day – but he did see Ted. Curious about how it looked, Justin had gone by the Kinnetik offices. Knowing Brian was in New York he felt quite assured that he wouldn't see him there – but if he saw Cynthia it'd almost be worse. Justin knew for a fact that Cynthia would tell Brian he'd been around. So he hung back, staring at the old converted bathhouse for a full fifteen minutes or so before heading back to his car. That was when he bumped into Ted.

They had a happy reunion, and Ted immediately invited Justin (and Aaron) over for dinner with he and Blake. Justin accepted while hoping Aaron didn't mind that they now had dinner plans for every night of the week. Ted than gave Justin the lowdown on Kinnetik, and that was when Justin learned Cynthia was in New York with Brian – which actually made perfect sense.

Ted gave Justin Emmett's phone number, and they made final plans to have dinner on Wednesday night together, both promising to try and get Emmett to commit to come over as well.

By the time Justin got back to his mom's new house it was time to leave again to pick up Aaron. Molly wanted to go along, so the two drove to the airport together, Molly regaling Justin with more stories from college. She was a welcome distraction – and it wasn't very long after they got to the airport that Aaron had landed and he and Justin were reunited.

Though Jennifer had wanted Justin and Aaron to stay at the house for the entire week, Justin convinced her that it'd be better if they got a hotel room, at least for the first part of the week. He didn't want to spell it out for her, but Justin and Aaron had been apart nearly two months and so all they wanted to do was be with each other. Thankfully, his mother had understood his insinuation and so that night, after dinner, Justin took Aaron back to the hotel he'd booked downtown, and they fucked each other's brains out – several times.

It was only later, when they were lying in bed together, Aaron asleep and Justin trying desperately to join him, that Justin realized he'd been thinking of Brian the whole night long. He'd just been reunited with his boyfriend – fiancé actually – after two months apart and their first night together he'd imagined he was with Brian.

What that meant he wasn't sure, but it certainly didn't bode well – and it didn't allow Justin much of a restful night's sleep, either.


	7. Enlighten the Night

"_let's enlighten the night  
we can fall away, slip out of sight"_

**November 2012  
**Brian****

Brian was headed back to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving. He could hardly believe it.

Before Gus, holidays were just days to get through, days he was forced to take off work, and days he typically spent at a club or a bar or with numerous, nameless men who would go to great lengths to pleasure him. After Gus, and especially after moving to New York, that changed. He and Lindsay had worked out a schedule for alternating holidays – he did it for Gus, because the kid liked having his parents together for the various "big ones" and so he and Lindsay would trade off traveling to either Vermont or New York. It was Lindsay's turn to host Turkey-day so when she dropped the bombshell that she was going to take Gus to Pittsburgh to see her ailing parents instead of having the dinner at her house in Vermont, Brian saw it as a perfect opportunity to actually go and make the amends he'd said he was going to make. Nearly everyone he cared about still lived in Pittsburgh, and going back because Gus would be there was really the perfect excuse.

That was how Brian found himself on a flight back to Pittsburgh the Tuesday before the holiday. He'd decided to go a few days early to allow himself some time to find people (namely, Michael) and make the necessary appeals for forgiveness. He'd been thinking a lot about what he'd say, and after trying for weeks to rehearse a speech he'd simply decided to wing it. Anything he rehearsed sounded far too manufactured, and he wasn't entirely sure Michael wouldn't see through a prepared speech anyway. It was important to him that Michael at least listened and if nothing else Brian wanted to come away from this trip knowing he'd done his absolute damnedest to make things up to his (former?) best friend.

As Brian drove the scenic route, by way of Liberty Avenue, to his hotel he couldn't help notice how different Pittsburgh felt after being in New York for so long. It felt small, and stifling. He was glad to be gone.

He was also curious to see the old haunts – and surprisingly nothing looked much different. The various signs and banners were a little faded, but everything he had known in his youth growing up on Liberty Avenue, was still there. There was even a new bar on the corner of Liberty Ave and 6th St., just a few doors down from Woody's. Brian thought he might check it out at some point over the weekend.

It was still early, so when he arrived at the Marriott City Center – where as a Platinum member he was automatically upgraded to the Presidential Suite, much to his delight – he dropped his luggage and got back into his rental car, on a mission to track down Mikey.

* * *

Red Cape Comics looked exactly the same, too, and that was how Brian knew Michael still ran the place – not that he doubted he didn't, but the sameness of it, the familiarity of it was still a comfort. Michael had never been one for tolerating much change in his life, and Brian truly doubted he was any different now and the store was evidence of that.

Brian couldn't see inside, the front window was full of bagged books featuring not only the staples of the comic worlds of DC and Marvel, but other odd looking books and brands that Brian had never heard of. He looked at them for a moment before gripping the door handle and going inside.

The bell above the door chimed, as it always had always would; it sounded just the same as the first time Michael had dragged Brian into the shop (back when it was owned by Buzzy), and he looked around for his friend.

"Be right with you," Brian heard Michael's voice call from the back and he smiled softly to himself. It was all so familiar, all so much _the same_ Brian had a hard time remembering is was 2012, not 2004.

A few moments later Michael came around the corner and Brian watched as he froze in his tracks, his polite smile fading from his face while his eyes widened slightly. There was a long silence between them before Michael slowly shook his head and took another few hesitant steps towards Brian.

"Hey Mikey," Brian spoke first, feeling very unsettled with the way Michael was staring at him; like he was an aberration or a mirage.

"Brian," Michael breathed his name with a forced exhalation of air, and he sounded very surprised.

"I never expected…uh, what are you doing here?" Michael moved then, going behind the counter and crossing his arms over his chest before settling on top of the stool that still sat there. Brian swore it was the same stool that had been there for the last twenty years.

"Lindsay brought Gus down to see her parents for Thanksgiving. I decided I'd crash their dinner party," he teased, testing the waters. He maintained a safe distance though – he was getting a very strong feeling from Michael that he wasn't exactly welcome – which he expected, and which he hoped to change.

"Oh," Michael bit his lip. "And you came here for….?"

"Well," Brian took a step towards the counter and Michael behind it, "I thought we could talk. Maybe, clear the air?"

Michael grinned then, and before Brian could help himself he grinned back – but he was clearly mistaken in what Michael's grin meant, because no sooner had it appeared on his face then it was gone, transformed into a scowl. Then he was on his feet, his hands planted palms-down on the top of the counter.

"Clear the air? Did you just say that?"

Brian's grin fell fast and he took a quick step backwards at the force of Michael's angry tone.

"Like all that happened was just a small misunderstanding? Like you didn't break Justin's heart, and mine. Like you didn't basically ruin the best thing I might have ever created? And our friendship on top of that?"

Brian stared at Michael, letting him say the things he needed to say. He would accept the anger and blame – because he deserved it. He just hoped after the anger there was anything left. He hoped there was a chance at all to salvage whatever might remain of the friendship they'd once shared.

"I'm not sure how you think we can _clear the air_," Michael said, using his fingers to make quotes. "I'm fucking pissed as hell at you."

"I know. But -," Brian started.

"No," Michael spat, cutting Brian off. "No but's. No nothing. Just go, Brian. Ben and I are having guests over for dinner and I need to get home. So just go."

Brian didn't move and Michael sighed.

"Please leave."

"Yeah. Sure," Brian turned. As he went to leave, the door open and one foot over the threshold, he turned back and smiled sadly at his friend. "Sorry, Mikey."

He shut the door behind him and heard the lock click into place not moments later.

That had not gone as he'd hoped, but Brian wasn't giving up quite yet. If Michael was still that angry than that proved he still cared. And if he still cared, there was hope for salvaging something yet.

Back in his rental car, Brian called Ted. He and Ted had reconciled years ago, mostly, and they talked, not just about Kinnetik business either – though the other man didn't speak of their mutual Pittsburgh acquaintances to Brian anymore.

Ted was very surprised to hear Brian was back in town, and when he asked if he'd seen anyone yet Brian thought the question sounded a little more weighted than was necessary. And when Brian said he'd just tried to talk to Michael, Brian swore he could actually hear Ted's tension melt away before he gave a soft laugh, agreeing to meet Brian at Woody's for a drink.

* * *

First thing the next morning, after Brian ran five miles on the treadmill in the hotel gym, he grabbed a coffee and headed back over to Red Cape Comics. He parked on the street, right in front of the store and waited for Michael to show up and open up shop.

His evening out with Ted had been enlightening; Ted encouraging that Brian push Michael to listen to him. Ted even told Brian that Michael still talked about Brian and all their past escapades. Yes, he had been angry and hurt from Brian's absence in California, but that had faded over time – Ted didn't think it'd take very much prompting for him to accept Brian back into his life.

Ten minutes later Brian saw him bouncing down the sidewalk. He still had that same, slightly springy walk, and Brian grinned, taking one more swig of coffee before climbing out from the car. He watched as Michael neared and his walk became slower and less springy until Michael was standing right on front of him. In the brightness of the morning sun, Brian could see the grey at Michael's temples and he swallowed a smile.

"What are you doing back here?" Michael asked, though he was far less venomous in tone than he'd been the day before.

"I'm here to apologize," Brian plainly stated, enjoying the shocked look that washed over Michael.

Brian was taking Ted's advice. That instead of trying to charm his way back into Michael's life, he had to just own up to his mistake and just fucking apologize. It was all anyone wanted. It was all that was necessary – at least according to Ted.

Brian sincerely hoped Theodore was right.

"I was a huge fucking asshole to you, and you didn't deserve it. I am sorry, Michael. Truly. I am."

Silence. The two friends just looked at each other and try as he might, Brian could not read what was going through Michael's head, though he could practically see the angel-Michael on one shoulder and devil-Michael on the other, both trying to convince Michael whether the apology should be accepted or not.

"Wow."

Michael shook his head.

"It's about fucking time," Michael finally said, and in that moment Brian knew it would be okay - eventually. There was still a long way to go, and a lot of time to make up for – but Brian knew Michael would take him back, and that was all he really wanted.

"I mean it," Brian said, following Michael as he turned and unlocked the door to the shop.

"I certainly hope so," Michael said, dropping his jacket on the counter and turning to face Brian again.

"What brought this on?"

Brian shrugged. He wasn't about to reveal the fact that he'd seen Justin…twice. He was afraid it might undo the very, very fragile reconciliation that was in progress. And no matter what happened with Justin, Brian was fast realizing he had missed Michael's presence in his life.

"Like you said," Brian wandered over to the wall and started thumbing through the comics in the bins, "it was about fucking time."

Michael was quiet and after a few minutes Brian turned back to face him. He was staring at him peculiarly, and with a slightly unsteady voice he asked, "are you okay? You're not…sick?"

"No," Brian shook his head, "no."

"I'm fine. Really, Mikey. Promise."

Michael nodded and moved behind the counter, popping the register open before lifting a tray from beneath the counter and settling it inside.

"A few weeks ago I came across a copy of the first issue of Rage," Brian said, changing the subject. "It was in the local comic book store by my place."

"You frequent a comic book store?" Michael asked and Brian smiled.

"No," he paused as Michael disappeared into the back and came back with a bank bag. As he slowly filled the cash register tray with the money from the bag Brian went on, "I was just walking by and saw it in the window. I guess it was what prompted me to come by. That and because I had been an immature asshole."

Michael offered a tight-lipped smile and Brian sighed inwardly. Rage. It all came back to that.

"I'm sorry I ruined it for you," Brian said, and he meant it. He really, truly did. For as smart as he liked to think he was, he hadn't foreseen the decline and death of the comic book coming as a repercussion of his actions.

Michael just nodded, his expression clouding and Brian sighed inwardly. Yes, they still had a long way to go before things would be "back to normal", so to speak.

"So is JR coming for Thanksgiving? She must be getting big now," Brian changed the subject again – eager to keep the conversation flowing in a positive way and watching Michael close the register and move to the door, flipping the sign to _OPEN_.

"No," he shook his head and crossed his arms, "Mel will bring her at Christmas but Thanksgiving is always spent in Baltimore. Ben and I are leaving early tomorrow morning to drive out there, actually."

"Oh," Brian was surprised. He really didn't know anything about Melanie's life now. She and Lindsay no longer spoke. They'd tried for awhile, for the sake of the kids, but in the end it had proven too hard and so they'd each gone their own way, with their own child.

"Yeah," Michael shrugged and Brian was a little amazed at his nonchalance. He made a mental note to ask him about it at a later time.

"Have you seen anyone else since you've been in town?" Michael suddenly asked and like with Ted, Brian got the odd sense that there was more meaning behind the question than what was implied on the surface.

"Just Ted," Brian replied and Michael's face, all screwed up in concern, relaxed.

"You should go see Ma," Michael smiled and Brian offered a sharp laugh.

"Right."

Fifteen minutes later, Brian was standing outside The Liberty Diner, watching through the front window as Deb, still wearing that damned red wig and wild, rainbow vest covered in buttons and bling, smacked gum and served up pancakes and eggs and bacon. He was nervous to enter – unsure of the kind of reception he might get. He'd hurt not only her son – her pride and joy and reason for living – but also her surrogate son. She might be so angry she wouldn't let him get a word out and as hard as apologizing to Michael had been, facing Debbie now was terrifying. He felt like a fourteen year-old kid again, only nothing he'd ever done as a kid could hold a candle to the hurts he'd inflicted over missing the damned movie premiere.

"Well," he muttered to himself, "here goes nothing."

* * *

"She shrieked, then slapped me across the face, then pulled me into a hug, then shoved me onto a stool and yelled for a few minutes," Brian lifted his beer and took a drink.

"It was like I'd never left," he added and the others smiled.

Brian was at Woody's. Again. But this time it felt more like the good old days. Around him sat all his friends; Ted with Blake beside him, Michael and Ben, Emmett. It was almost like old times. Except for the odd looks he'd occasionally get from Michael.

The reconciliation between he and Mikey was still rather fragile. Brian could see Michael was still battling with himself and he wondered why. What was it that kept Michael just on the edge, ready to bolt in the other direction if Brian said or did anything wrong? It was unnerving, and as such the entire table was under this odd, tense umbrella of emotional stress. The only one who seemed impervious to it was Emmett.

When Emmett had arrived at Woody's, the last of them to get there, he'd given Brian a long hug, whispering a few threatening words into his ear about hurting Michael again before letting him go and sitting at the table.

Aside from that moment, and Michael's odd stares, it almost felt like no time had passed.

"She invited me over for dinner on Saturday," Brian smiled, "Gus, Linds and I."

His reunion with Debbie had been everything he'd expected, and nothing like what he'd expected. Every emotion he'd thought possible to feel had rushed through him, and he was pretty sure it had been the same for Debbie. But in the end, she'd pulled him close and told him she loved him and for Brian that was all he'd needed to hear.

He could only hope if, or when, he finally spoke to Justin again that it went half as well as it had with Michael and Debbie.

"It's too bad Ben and I won't be there," Michael pouted, "we usually have family dinner on Saturday but we'll be in Baltimore still. I'd love to see Gus, and Linds. When do they get into town?"

Brian glanced at his watch, it was 7:45pm, "uh, they should land in two hours."

"Would it be too late to bring them by the house after you pick them up?" Michael asked and Brian shrugged.

"I'll check with Lindsay and let you know."

Michael and Ben were leaving early the next morning for Baltimore – driving in to spend a long weekend with JR. Lindsay and Gus would be gone back to Vermont before their return to Pittsburgh on Sunday night.

"Yeah I usually go to Deb's Saturday dinners too, but I promised Justin a tour of my new shop and I know he's really excited to see it," Emmett cooed and in that moment, everything stopped.

For Brian, it was as if all sound had been suddenly muted, and all the background distractions faded away into a gray haze. He focused in on Emmett, not quite sure he'd heard the other man correctly.

"Excuse me?" he leaned forward on his forearms, staring hard at Emmett and noticing the deep red blush that was creeping up his neck. He could see Michael, just to his left, staring at them both with wide eyes.

"Oh, uh, nothing," Emmett stuttered, his hand shaking slightly as he lifted his martini glass, spilling more of the drink down his front than what he managed to get into his mouth.

"Emmett," Brian's jaw clenched and his voice rumbled deep in his chest.

"Leave him alone," Michael's hand lighted suddenly on Brian's arm, "come over here."

Brian let Michael pull him towards the dart board; no one was playing at the moment.

"Justin is in town and you didn't tell me," Brian was in shock.

"Fuck no I didn't tell you! You ruined his life. Like I would give you any chance at doing that to him again?"

"Fuck you, Michael," Brian spat, "for your information I've already seen Justin. Twice now."

"You have? When?"

"It doesn't matter. Is he staying at his mother's house? I should go," Brian started towards the door but Michael moved to stand in his path.

"No."

"Get out of my way, Michael," Brian growled but Michael just shook his head.

"He's here with Aaron. You can't just go barging in on him. Jesus, Brian," Michael ran a hand through his hair and threw a glance over at the table where their friends still sat. Brian followed his gaze and saw all of them whispering and looking their direction.

"I just want to make things right," Brian fell against the wall, exhaling deeply feeling suddenly exhausted.

"I'm not sure you can," Michael said, "not with him."

"Why not," Brian stared at his shoes, Prada of course, his voice barely a whisper.

"Because you hurt him badly. You hurt us both badly. But unlike me, he was fucking madly in love with you and when you didn't show up he was devastated. For months. For years! And you did that to him. You can't just say I'm sorry to him and expect it all to be okay. That won't be enough," Michael leaned against the wall next to Brian.

"I need to try, Michael," Brian said and he heard Michael sigh.

"Fine. Just let me tell him you're here. And if he wants to talk to you, he can contact you, But you do _not_ contact him. Got it?"

Brian nodded.

"Look at me," Michael demanded, and Brian raised his eyes.

"I mean it, Brian. You seek him out and we're done. You get no more chances. You leave him alone and let him decide if he wants to see you again. And if he does show up, and if you hurt him again…," Michael shook his head, his face deadly serious, "just pray we don't cross paths again because you'll be very sorry."

* * *

Brian picked up Gus and Lindsay from the airport that night, the night before Thanksgiving, and took them straight to The Peterson's. Their flight had been delayed and Lindsay thought it too late to stop by Michael and Ben's.

Brian, distracted by the knowledge that Justin was once again within close proximity, spent the night alone in his hotel room restlessly pacing and wondering if Michael had talked to Justin yet, and what Justin's reaction had been.

The last thing Brian wanted to do, as he watched the sun rise over the city that had been his home for most of his life, was go to the Peterson's. He wanted to see Gus of course, and spend some time with him, but not at the expense of having to tolerate Lindsay's parents, who still rather disliked him. Not at the expense of having to sit through hours upon hours of fucking football. And certainly not when he knew Justin was so close – yet also so far.

The day didn't turn out to be so bad. With Gus there, Lindsay's parents were required to be on their best behavior, and Brian actually found he was having an okay time. His thoughts in his head rotated between thoughts of Justin and where he was and what he was doing, if Michael had told him yet that Brian was in town, and trying to focus on Gus and give him the attention he deserved. In that respect, it was a long day.

At the end of the day, after leaving the Peterson's, Brian stopped by Woody's. The bar was unusually quiet, which surprised Brian. He'd thought it'd be packed full of fags with no place to go and no one to spend the day with. But it wasn't.

Brian sat alone at the bar, nursing a beer that had long grown warm, thinking about what he could say, or do, if Justin were to contact him. Could he make the other man understand his reasons for doing what he did? Was it fair to even ask him to try and understand? He didn't know – and it was making him crazy.

When Emmett suddenly appeared at his side, Brian was surprised. He hadn't expected to see anyone else.

"Shouldn't you be hosting some fabulous party?" Brian asked, taking a sip of his warm beer before pushing it away and indicating to the bartender for another.

"I did. It's over. And I need a fucking drink," Emmet flopped down dramatically onto the stool next to Brian, letting out a breathy sigh.

"I've never worked for such queens, such entitled bitches, in my life," he dropped his head onto his hands and sighed again.

"Rough day then?"

"Oh my God you have no idea," Emmett grasped Brian's forearm tightly, "These two were monsters. Monsters!" Emmett screeched, releasing his hold on Brian and taking the offered martini from the bartender with a huge smile and mouthing 'thank you'.

"I thought I'd seen it all but these two wanted the impossible."

Brian smirked, taking a drink of his new, cold beer.

"Pray, tell me; what brought you here," Emmett asked after taking another drink of his martini.

Shaking his head, Brian shrugged.

"Mmmmmhmmmm," Emmett leveled a gaze at Brian, a knowing look on his face.

"I didn't mean for it to come out like it did," Emmett finally said and Brian shrugged again. What did it matter now?

"And to be honest, if I had my way, I'd never let you see him again."

Brian raised his eyebrows and looked at Emmett for a moment.

"You destroyed him. You broke his spirit," Emmett leaned in and said, quite viciously.

"I know. God I know," Brian grumbled, sick of people reminding him of how badly he'd fucked up. Like he needed any reminding.

"Why did you?"

"Fuck off, Emmett," Brian looked around the bar but there was no escape. Not that he could find an escape from what was truly haunting him, and he resigned himself to another sleepless night.

The two men sat in silence, and Brian wondered how long it'd be before everyone stopped ragging on him. He'd apologized to Michael, the only one other than Justin who had any real reason to be angry with him – it was no one else's business. But he also knew that wasn't how their little family-group worked. Everyone was heavily invested, and cared a great deal – particularly for Justin. Which was fine with Brian; he still was glad the younger man had had everyone to lean on after Brian had broken his heart – but that didn't mean he wanted their editorializing constantly.

Suddenly Brian felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he found himself face to face with one of the most beautiful men he'd ever seen. Certainly not a native of Pittsburgh – more like Greece, or maybe Southern Italy.

Brian let his gaze travel up and down, drinking him in. He was keenly aware of Emmett, sitting so close to him, observing with great interest as well.

"Hi," the stranger purred and Brian felt it reverberate through his entire body.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he added, moving a step closer to Brian and resting his hand high up on Brian's thigh, his thumb stroking the area precariously close to his cock.

Brian's body responded accordingly, and he felt his pants grow tighter as all the blood rushed to his dick.

He wanted to say yes, he wanted to let this gorgeous man buy him a drink. He wanted to take him back to his hotel and fuck him so hard that all thoughts of Justin would leave him.

"Sorry," Brian swallowed hard and couldn't believe he was going to say what he was about to say, "not interested."

The guy stared at him with eyes so dark they seemed to be black holes Brian could easily have fallen into, before he shrugged, "your loss."

He was gone moments later, though Brian's partial hard-on took much longer to deflate.

"What the fuck was that?" Emmett was staring at him with an odd look on his face. "Who are you and what have you done with Brian Kinney?"

"Fuck off," Brian sighed, turning back to the bar and downing the remainder of his beer in three long swallows.

"Seriously," Emmett was no longer teasing in tone, but looking quite seriously concerned. "Are you okay? You're not sick again or something, are you?"

"What the fuck!" Brian yelled, eliciting shocked looks from the few other bar patrons before everyone resumed their conversations and games of pool.

"No, I'm not sick," Brian said through clenched teeth, "I just wasn't interested."

"I've never, _ever_ seen you turn down a guy who looked like that before," Emmett shook hi s head. "Never."

"Yeah, well there's a first time for everything," Brian sighed, tossing a twenty on the bar and leaving without another word.

* * *

It was another sleepless night for Brian, and another early morning come far too soon.

Lindsay showed up at the hotel at 8am with Gus in tow. She and her mother were going shopping, and Brian was going to spend the morning with Gus. He and Lindsay planned to meet up at noon at the Liberty Diner and then she was gone.

"What do you want to do today, sonny-boy?" Brian poured another cup of coffee and sipped it. His eyes were heavy and he felt exhausted, yet he knew he'd never be able to fall asleep were he to lie down. He had too many thoughts running through his head, and all of them about a certain younger, blonde man.

"Dunno," Gus shrugged.

"We could go to the zoo, or the aquarium," Brian couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. The zoo? The aquarium? God he was pathetic.

"No," Gus fidgeted and Brian looked at him a little more closely.

"What's up, sonny-boy?" Brian moved to sit next to Gus at the table.

Gus shrugged and Brian felt a ball of nervous energy blossom in his stomach. Something was bothering the kid and Brian had a distinct feeling he wouldn't like whatever it was.

"What is it, Gus?" Brian prodded, gently. He wanted his son to feel free to talk to him, about anything. He didn't want Gus to ever have to hide himself from him. Not like Brian had hidden himself from his parents.

"It's just…most kids have two sets of grandparents. And I only have one…," Gus stared at his hands which were folded in his lap.

Shit.

Of all the things Brian thought were upsetting Gus, the fact that he was short two grandparents hadn't even been in the top 100, hell the top 1,000, possibilities.

"Can we go visit them?" Gus asked and for a brief moment Brian thought he might throw up.

"They're dead, Gus," Brian responded slowly.

His mother, Saint Joan as he liked to call her, had died in 2009 and Brian hadn't come back for the funeral. He'd left it all for his sister, signing over his share of the inheritance (what little there was after the debts were paid) to Claire. He hadn't spoken to his sister since. He wasn't even sure she still lived in Pittsburgh.

"I know," Gus shifted in his chair again before looking at Brian out of the corner of his eye, "but can we go see their graves?"

This was _definitely_ not what Brian had expected Gus to say. But if Gus wanted, or needed, to find out more about where he'd come from, Brian would indulge him, no matter how repulsive he might find the task.

"Sure sonny-boy," Brian nodded and took another sip of his coffee.

An hour later he and Gus were standing at the Kinney headstone. Brian had never seen it. He hadn't visited the grave once after his father passed (aside from the funeral, but the headstone hadn't been installed yet) and he hadn't come back after his mother's death either. It was simple, at least simple for what he'd thought his mother would chose. There was a large cross in the middle, Jack and Joan's names and birth and death dates on either side.

_Loving parents, _was engraved beneath the cross, in the middle, and there was a fresh bundle of flowers, Gerber Daisies if Brian was to guess, on the grass beneath the headstone and he deduced his sister must still be around. He had never understood her loyalty to their parents. They had been awful and cruel to her almost as much as they'd been to Brian – yet she forgave them, and mourned them. Hell, she fucking missed them. It made Brian sick and it was the biggest reason he'd cut off all communication; well, that and the fact that Claire had thought him capable of molesting her son.

"What were they like?" Gus asked after several minutes standing there in silence. "You don't ever talk about them."

Brian wasn't sure how to answer him. He wanted to be honest with Gus, but he didn't want to have to tell him that his grandparents had been abusive, ignorant, and cruel for Brian's entire life. He didn't want Gus to have to deal with that knowledge.

"They were hard-working, stern, and full-blooded Irish," Brian finally settled on saying. Nothing too dangerous with that…

Gus nodded, but Brian could tell he was unsatisfied with the answer.

"I'm sorry Gus, I didn't know them very well. We weren't close," Brian ruffled Gus's hair and smiled when he pulled away with whiney _'stop it, dad'_.

Gus was getting older and it was happening too fast; Brian wasn't sure how he was going to handle it when Gus was no longer interested in hanging out with his old man. It kind of broke his heart a little bit because in the years since he'd moved to New York the one consistent thing in his life, the one anchor he had to his tortured reality was Gus. He lived for his son, and it was as much a surprise to Brian as it would be to anyone else who might hear Brian talk about his kid. He loved Gus, more than anything else, more than his own life, and he hated that this moment couldn't be more special for him, he hated that his awful parents had ruined the potential for Brian to feed whatever fantasy Gus might have had about them.

"Didn't your mom ever tell you about them? She knew them, too," Brian asked.

Gus shrugged, "no, she said to ask you."

Fucking Lindsay.

"Well they were regular parents. We did regular things like other, regular families," Brian said, pretty much lying through his teeth and hating himself for it.

Gus nodded and smiled up at Brian, seeming to accept the answer; for the moment anyway. Brian wondered how much longer it'd be before he'd ask again, and how much he could keep hidden from Gus. Because as awful as it was to live through the abuse and neglect and brazen hatred, telling people about it was almost as bad, and Brian never wanted Gus to feel bad for him.

"Ready to go?" Brian asked and when Gus nodded Brian led them back to the rental car and they headed towards the Liberty Diner.

The Liberty Diner was packed, and while Deb was working she didn't have time to chit chat with Brian, Lindsay, or Gus. Lindsay's mother, squirming in her seat for most of the meal, warmed up to the environment a little before she left with Lindsay and Gus in tow. Debbie reaffirmed their plans to have dinner the following day before they parted ways.

Brian, the rest of the day free, went back to his hotel and attempted to rest. He was emotional drained and physical exhausted. He hadn't had more than a few hours sleep since learning Justin was in town, and it was beginning to catch up to him.

Four hours later he woke up, sweaty and nauseated. He'd slept too long, and now felt even worse than before.

Changing his clothes he headed to the hotel gym and proceeded to lift some weights and run a few miles on the treadmill in hopes it would improve his mood. It was partially successful – at least he no longer felt sick. But he was still restless; still feeling anxious and the last thing he wanted to do was sit around his hotel room with nothing but work, or television to distract him. He was not in the right frame of mind for either.

Calling Ted, Brian was disappointed to hear that he and Blake were busy, and though he invited Brian to come out with them to Babylon that night, Brian declined. He hadn't gone out to a club in years, and he wasn't all that interested in returning to Babylon. There were too many memories wrapped there, and if Brian ended up departing Pittsburgh having not seen Justin at all, he didn't want any memories of the club, new or old, to accompany him.

Showering, he stalked around his hotel room for another hour or so, texting a few times with Sean just to see how the other man was doing. He had gone back to his hometown in upstate New York for the holiday, the first time since he'd come out as gay right after he'd graduated college. Brian was glad to hear things were going okay on that front. Sean was his friend, and for no other reason than that Brian had really hoped the other man's family would be more accepting now that some time had passed; apparently it had been pretty awful in the months following his admission.

Finally, unable to stand being cooped up in his hotel any longer, Brian headed back out to Woody's. It was the one place on Liberty Avenue he still felt comfortable.

The crowd was thin, as it had been the night before, but though small they were livelier. Brian sat alone at the bar, once again nursing a beer while he thought about all the things that had happened to bring him to this moment. All the pain he'd caused, probably (or rather most certainly) unnecessarily, and all the misery he'd inflicted upon people he'd proclaimed to care about. He actually wished he could go back and tell his younger self not to be such a fucking dick – and to go to the premiere and to support Justin and Michael. Things might not have ended up much different – he and Justin may still not have worked out – but everyone, himself included, might have been much happier had he made that choice instead.

Beginning to feel like a pathetic old man, living and obsessing over his past because his present was nothing but misery and pain, Brian had decided to head back to the hotel when he was shocked by the sight of Justin walking into the bar.

Seeing him in Boston, and in New York, had been surprising, and stimulating, and had stirred many old feelings but seeing him walk into Woody's, like he had so many fucking times before, was like going back in time. Suddenly it was ten years ago, and Brian and Justin were one in the same; a package unit. They went to Woody's together, they went to Babylon together, they went home together and fucked each other for hours before falling asleep together. Sometimes still sweaty and sticky from the night's efforts.

It all came back in huge, cresting waves, knocking Brian, proverbially, off his feet. He was well and truly fucked, and he was realizing that this might be his last chance. If he couldn't get Justin to listen to him in a place that held so many memories, so much history for them, then he would never get Justin to listen.

"Hi," Justin was in front of him now – at eye level since Brian was still seated at the bar.

"Hey," Brian eyed him nervously, uncertain of how to read the expression on Justin's face. He seemed…annoyed? Obligated? Like maybe he didn't want to be there or be talking to Brian at all?

"Michael said you were in town," Justin moved and sat at the bar next to Brian, ordering a ginger ale from the bartender, "he said you wanted to see me."

Brian nodded.

"So?"

"Did you track me down here?" Brian asked and when Justin shrugged Brian just smiled.

Justin was trying so hard to keep his walls up, Brian could tell. He was resistant, and a part of Brian felt invigorated by the challenge, because if Justin felt the need to protect himself it only signaled to Brian that he still felt something. And that was all Brian needed to know to spur him on. He wasn't sure it would go anywhere, that Justin would decide to ditch Adam or Aiden or whoever the hell for Brian; but Brian also knew it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that he might.

"I don't have all night," Justin said, gripping the glass of ginger ale in his hand. Once again Brian noted the ring.

"What's this," he extended a finger, tapping the ring and hearing a soft "clink" as it collided with the glass in Justin's hand.

It was a scene reminiscent of the last time Brian saw Justin with jewelry on his finger – and he saw the same memory echo in Justin's surprised expression.

"It's a promise ring," he said softly, moving his hands out of Brian's reach, "Aaron gave it to me earlier this year. The Supreme Court will be ruling next year on the constitutionality of Proposition 8 in California, and once they overturn it we plan to have a ceremony," Justin said.

"Oh," Brian bit his lower lip, nodding. He'd heard the same thing, about the Supreme Court and Prop 8; he'd also heard the Defense of Marriage Act might also be overturned. He didn't share Justin's optimism that it was a done deal, however.

"So you love this guy? Aiden?"

"It's Aaron. And yes," Justin gave a soft laugh. "What do you want, Brian? Are you just going to sit here and tease me because I still want to get married, and be happy, and live a life with someone?"

"I thought you'd changed. At least you seemed different the last two times I'd seen you. And Michael and Emmett both said you seemed different to them as well. But right now you're acting just as you always used to – like a dick. So what do you want? Just tell me so we can get this over with and move on with our lives," Justin's expression was no longer amused, but exasperated.

The chastising had what undoubtedly was the desired effect on Brian – and he felt a little guilty. He didn't want to pick a fight with Justin.

"Can we go somewhere else to talk?" Brian asked, opening his wallet and removing a fifty which was more than enough to cover his two beers and Justin's ginger ale.

"Can't we talk here?" Justin asked.

"I'd rather it be more private," Brian set the bill on the bar top and stood, "we can go back to my hotel."

"No," Justin suddenly looked panicked and Brian chuckled.

"I'm not going to attack you. I won't even touch you. I promise," Brian stared at Justin, willing him to see he meant it. Finally, after a very long silence – what felt like minutes but was probably only 30 seconds or so – Justin nodded.

* * *

"This is nice," Justin eyed the living room of the suite as Brian took his coat and threw it over the back of one of the chairs at the table. The doors to the bedroom were closed, thankfully. It was a nice room. Just inside the short hallway was the small kitchen and dining area, and across the room was the living area, with a sofa, an armchair, and television armoire. There were four large floor to ceiling windows, and a mini bar opposite that.

"Can I get you a drink?" Brian asked, moving to the mini bar and pouring a shooter of Beam into a glass.

"No," Justin shook his head, "I don't drink anymore."

Brian stared at him for a long moment before nodding. He had a distinct feeling the reason Justin didn't drink anymore had to do with him, and he suddenly didn't want to know how bad it had been for Justin.

"So we're here. It's about as private as it can get. So again I ask, what do you want?"

Faced with it, suddenly it was harder for Brian to find the words. He felt hot, and uncomfortable, and strange. Almost like he was outside his own body, watching himself move around but powerless to really control what happened next.

He downed the Beam from his glass and motioned to the sofa in the living area, moving there and sitting.

Justin followed, but he sat in the armchair and stared at Brian with an expectant expression.

How was he supposed to do this? How did he start? He felt like an idiot, and the heat from Justin's stare only amplified the feeling. The last thing he wanted to do was make things worse and if he said all the things he wanted to say, it might do just that. He might end up hurting Justin, and angering Mikey, and losing any of the little goodwill he'd built up the last few days. But he also couldn't sit on his own feelings anymore – he'd go insane if he didn't at least try, as hard as it was going to be, and as terrifying as it would be…

"I'm sorry," he blurted, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"I'm sorry for not coming to California, I'm sorry for not calling or talking to you after, I'm sorry I ever made the choices I made. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm just fucking sorry," Brian spoke earnestly, and held Justin's blue-eyed gaze.

"Better late than never?" Justin said with a hint of sarcasm and Brian involuntarily smiled.

"Michael said that same thing," Brian replied. Only Michael had meant it, he hadn't been seething with, what exactly? Justin didn't look any less angry or expectant than before. In fact, Brian would say he looked even more enraged.

"Do you want me to forgive you? Is that what this is? Do you want me to say that it's okay that you left me out there, alone and lonely without a single reason?"

"No-," Brian started but when Justin jumped up from the chair he cut himself off, following the other man with his eyes as he paced back and forth in front of him.

"I don't know if I can forgive you. I want to know why you did what you did, but that doesn't mean I'm going to suddenly jump back in your arms, or declare that I've only been biding my time waiting. You practically killed me, Brian. I may have been alive, but I wasn't living. I hated myself and I hated my life. And it was because of you. You made me feel completely, fucking worthless."

Justin stopped pacing and stood, panting and staring at Brian. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright and wild.

"Okay," Brian finally said.

"Okay?"

Justin stared at him with incredulity.

"That's it? Jesus Brian! Just fucking talk!" Justin yelled his hands balled into fists at his side.

"I thought you needed to be let go. I thought you needed to be on your own, given your own life to live, your own interests to pursue. I didn't want you to feel obligated to me. Because I knew you would. You wouldn't let yourself enjoy your time out there if you were pining away for me."

"Oh my God, you really are as narcissistic as everyone always said," Justin laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Believe it or not, Brian, but my happiness didn't revolve around you. Yes, you were part of what made me happy but I wouldn't have been living in Los Angeles 'pining away for you', as you seem to think. I did have an identity outside of you, even back then when I should have known better than fall in love with a fucking man-child."

"Well you asked me why. That was why," Brian groused, starting to feel angry with Justin's seething judgment. He might have deserved it back then, but he was trying to make things right…as Justin had said moments earlier, better late than never.

"Well thanks for telling me I guess," Justin sighed loudly.

"I honestly thought I wanted to know. I thought it might make these lingering feelings go away. And I just don't…I don't know how to feel about any of this anymore. I'm just so tired of it. This," Justin indicated between he and Brian, "has been hanging over me for years and I want it done with."

Brian nodded. He understood, he really did – but he feared Justin's version of being "done with it" didn't jive with Brian's. Because Brian wasn't ready to let Justin go – even though that had been the entire point of not going to LA all those years ago. But the goal then had been to give Justin his freedom, nothing he'd done had been because he hadn't cared.

"You know my dad died last year," Justin spoke, his tone wistful. "He'd had a massive heart attack in his office and was gone before the paramedics even got there. And the thing I regret most about the whole situation is that we never spoke again after the whole Prop 8 thing. After he had me arrested outside his store I never saw him again. And whether it would have made a difference or not, I sometimes wish I could just ask him why he hated me – why it mattered to him who I loved. How did my sex life have anything to do with him? I wish I had been able to close that door."

"You're not equating me to your father, are you," Brian arched his eyebrow and felt his stomach flip when Justin offered him a genuine smile.

"No," he said, "I'm just saying this is about putting you behind me. Like I wish I could have done with my dad."

Brian stared at him, not sure he really believed that.

"So you're just going to go back to California and marry this Aiden guy," Brian leaned back on the sofa.

"Aaron," Justin smirked.

"You're telling me you'll be happy with him? Another fucking violinist?" Brian ignored the name correction and went for the jugular.

Justin's smirk faded and his expression clouded.

"That's not fair," he moved back to the armchair and sat on the edge of the seat, twisting the ring on his finger with his other hand.

"You don't get to put this on me," Justin's tone had dropped a level, "what happened was entirely your fault. You had a million chances to make things right and you never did. So you don't get to judge me or my decisions now."

"I asked you to move in with me," Brian said, "I asked you to move in, and you tell me instead that you're moving to Los Angeles. In what world was that fair? This is as much your fault as mine."

"You seriously believe that?" Justin stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. "That's bullshit. It was my life, I had the freedom to decide what I wanted to do with it."

"But you decided to go to Los Angeles, for months, without even asking me about it!" Brian yelled, jumping to his feet and taking his turn around the room. He hadn't realized it, but the root of it all was this very thing. Justin had made a major life decision that would impact them both, and he hadn't included Brian in any part of that decision.

"I asked you to move in with me and you fucking told me you were going to California!" Brian repeated, a little quieter this time.

"Why didn't you even ask me?" Brian looked at Justin then, feeling desperately alone and lost.

"Ask you? Why? When did you ever ask me about the decisions you made in your life?" Justin stood then. "You didn't ask me when you were going to move to New York."

"That's not the same," Brian scowled, "I had barely known you for a few months. The LA thing was nearly four years later! Four years of being with you, and caring and-," Brian stopped himself. He wasn't going to say it, not if Justin was still going to walk out the door. He couldn't have those words out there, spoken and free without a way to take them back, if the man on the receiving end of them was not by his side.

"And what?" Justin's eyes were slightly wide, and his voice breathy.

"Nothing," Brian grumbled, moving back to the minibar and pouring another shooter of Beam into a glass and downing it in one swallow.

"Do you love him?" Brian asked, his back to Justin as he stared at the bottom of his empty glass.

"Yes," Justin stated and Brian could hear the certainty in his voice.

Turning to face him, ready to wish him the best and let him go for good, he paused when he saw something of a pained look cross Justin's features. It was strange, because while Brian could hear the commitment to his declarative answer in his voice, nothing of his body language mirrored it. He looked terrified, like a kid who'd been caught peeking at his Christmas gifts ahead of time.

Suddenly Brian felt bold – and he moved quickly, crossing the room in three long strides before stopping just a few feet away from Justin. They stared at each other and Brian knew he wasn't imagining the yearning look in Justin's eyes. It was a look he'd known so well, many years ago.

"You could stay here tonight," Brian whispered.

"No," Justin shook his head, "my mother would wonder where I was."

"Not Aiden?"

"Aaron. And no. He had to go back to Boston this morning," Justin breathed.

Brian took a step closer and Justin visibly stiffened.

"You promised," he whispered and Brian smiled.

"I'm not touching you," he breathed.

"Stay. We can talk some more. I think-," Brian paused, rolling his lips in his mouth, "I think we should try this again."

Justin's eyebrows shot up.

"Try this…no," he took a step back shaking his head, "no, no, no, no."

Hands in his hair, Justin spun around and walked to where his coat lay over the back of a chair.

"I need to go," he grabbed it but before he could put it on Brian was by his side, his hand on his forearm.

"Please don't marry him," Brian whispered and when Justin looked up at him his eyes were wet.

"What happened to you?" Justin replied his eyes searching Brian's face. "Why couldn't you have realized this sooner! When I wasn't in a relationship! Shit!"

Brian had to agree, his timing was for shit. But he also knew that had he not seen Justin in Boston and then again in New York, that he'd never have contacted him on his own. He'd been content, or accepting rather, of living his life ignoring the one thing missing - Justin.

"I didn't know," Brian tried to explain, "I hadn't realized…"

"What? That you only want what you can't have?" Justin pulled his arm out of Brian's grasp and backed away towards the door, pulling on his coat.

"Jesus! Stop! Please don't leave," Brian felt desperate now – certain that when Justin walked out the door he would be walking out of Brian's life, forever.

Justin stood at the door staring back at Brian expectantly.

"Why not? We're done Brian," Justin answered, the mask he'd been wearing at the start of the night back in place, and this time Brian believed him. Justin was done with him, or at least _he_ believed it.

"Just...because-," Brian took a deep breath and before he could second guess himself he said it – he played his last card and could only hope it was enough, "I love you."

Justin's eyebrows rose slightly and his face registered his obvious surprise. A silence that seemed endless to Brian settled between them before Justin started laughing.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Justin shook his head, one hand flying to his hair where he absently twisted and pulled at it. Brian recognized the gesture – and it gave him hope because if Justin was really done with him as he had proclaimed, he wouldn't be here still. He'd have heard Brian's declaration and gone. He certainly wouldn't be betraying his own emotional turmoil with his 'tell'.

Brian only nodded and shrugged and tried desperately to keep his emotions in check.

"How can you love me? You don't even know me anymore. I doubt you ever knew me," Justin stared at Brian with a piercing glare, but he had let go of the door handle and had taken a few steps back into the suite. Brian took that as a good sign.

"I never stopped. I loved you before you left, and I went on loving you after you were gone. And now, I still love you – probably more than before," Brian felt his neck and cheeks flush hot as he stumbled over his words, cognizant of Justin's proximity, and stare, and everything. Cognizant of how he'd never, not once, said such things to another person. Not ever.

"It's too late," Justin replied softly, no longer laughing, and staring at Brian with a bizarre expression that appeared more pitying than anything else.

"Because of Aaron?" Brian scoffed, disbelieving, using the other man's proper name this time. But he regretted his tone as Justin sighed and moved back towards the door.

"Stop. I don't mean...I'm...fuck! I'm sorry," Brian moved towards Justin, grabbing his arm to keep him from going.

"Brian. Let me go," Justin whispered and Brian saw genuine pain and regret in his expression. He ignored the growing wetness in Justin's eyes while basking in the bright blue shine of them.

"No," Brian stepped closer, feeling braver and unable to stop the pure, animalistic magnetism Justin brought out of him. If this was it – the real end of everything, he had to have one last memory.

"Please," Justin breathed. His breath was warm against Brian's face as he moved closer still.

"No," Brian repeated, his head lowering and moving ever closer to Justin's. He wanted to taste him, he needed it like air and he wasn't sure he could stop even if he wanted too.

"Bri-," Justin started but Brian didn't let him finish, pressing his lips against Justin's, softly, but when Justin immediately responded, he increased pressure and intensity.

Brian raised his hands, threading his fingers through Justin's hair as his mouth moved, sense memory taking over. Brian thought he might die from how good it felt. It was truly like drinking water after years wandering the desert without. He felt himself getting drunk on it, the pure euphoria that the feel of Justin's lips against his brought him making him light headed and high.

They panted and breathed as their mouths reunited, Brian's hands never leaving Justin's hair while he felt Justin's hands gripping and clawing at his back, pulling him closer.

Then, suddenly, his hands were pressed to Brian's chest and he was shoving him away, hard.

"Stop," he panted. His face was flushed, his lips were swollen, and his eyes were dark pools of pupils dilated with lust and desire. Brian didn't allow his gaze to wander south of the border. He didn't want to know if Justin was aroused, but he _really_ didn't want to know if he wasn't.

"I need to go," Justin stared at Brian for a moment before he moved back to the door.

"That's it?" Brian asked and Justin sighed, turning to door.

"Please...don't...," Justin's back was to him, his head lowered and his voice a whisper, "please don't contact me."

Then he was gone and Brian was left alone with the pain of what he'd lost, again, fresh upon his lips and fresh upon his memory.


	8. Intertwined

"_when you drop your guard  
melt into time, so intertwined, quiet"_

**November – December 2012  
**Justin****

"Fuck!"

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Justin pounded his fists against the steering wheel, letting the rage surge through him, feeding off it. He was so angry, infuriated, seeing red.

He took a shaky deep breath and started the car he'd borrowed from his mother. His hands were trembling from the power of his emotional outburst.

Fuck Brian and his apologies. Fuck Brian and his kisses. Fuck Brian and his lame ass excuses. Fuck him!

"Fuck him," Justin whispered, willing his heart rate start to slow as the rush of angry adrenaline began to abate.

_Fuck me and my terrible decision making skills_, Justin thought as he steered the car out of the parking garage and into the bustling downtown of Pittsburgh.

It was his own fault for going with him to his hotel, for not leaving well enough alone; for not realizing that there was no "just talking" with Brian. For realizing that he couldn't just turn off the physical attraction, the connection he felt to the older man. Justin thought, no he knew, it would always be there. But anyone who made Justin feel so awful did not deserve the time and energy to be thought about, much less the time and energy it took to be angry towards.

But Brian had said those damn words – he'd said he loved him. He'd fucking said it, finally! Justin would have given anything to have heard those words eight years ago. He'd have sold his soul to the devil, committed murder; he'd have moved heaven and hell just to _know_ without a shadow of a doubt that Brian felt anything more for him than just physical attraction. Now he did know…and he wished he didn't.

That was the root of the problem; as badly as Brian could, and did, make him feel, Justin also could not ignore how good he made him feel, too; his heated stare and eyes that could see through him, the way his hands in his hair sent shock waves through his body, the way his lips were so fucking familiar and welcome that it was like coming back to a home he'd never known he'd been absent from.

"Fuck him," Justin mumbled again but with waning conviction, and more to convince himself that he wasn't precariously close to falling down a dangerously slippery slope. One he knew would be booby trapped with thorns, and briars, and barbed wire that would scratch and rip at him the entire way down.

It would only end bloody, and yet Justin also knew it was so close to being too late to stop it from happening.

* * *

Daphne was his only hope, and thankfully she answered on the fourth ring.

"Why, my dearest friend, are you calling me at ten thirty on a Friday night? Why aren't you out on the town, catching up with the Pittsburgh crowd?" Daphne teased.

"Though really the bigger question is why am I home to take your call at ten thirty on a Friday night?" she laughed when Justin didn't answer right away.

"Because you have no life," Justin deadpanned, picking at the lint on the cotton bedspread in the spare room he had claimed for the weekend. Now that Aaron was gone back to Boston, Justin was back at his mom's house for a few nights.

"Ouch. Cruel," Daphne clucked before adding with a chuckle, "but true."

"Seriously though. What's up?"

Justin sighed heavily and slid down under the covers, curling up into a tight ball and wishing that he could go back in time to that night in September, in Boston, and tell himself to…to do _something_ different. To run in the opposite direction at the first glimpse of Brian, not to engage in conversation, not to let him get to him. But then again, that wouldn't have solved the inherent problem, it would only have stopped the symptoms from bursting through the cracks in the shell he'd created to mask the truth of it all.

"Justin?" Daphne sounded worried, her tone more urgent and all teasing gone from her voice.

"I saw him," Justin whispered, his head pulled under the covers and the phone tucked up tight under his chin. He could feel the suffocating heat of his breath in the small cave of the blankets he was cocooned within. The discomfort of it soothed him, which he fleetingly thought was odd.

"Shit. What happened? Are you okay?"

"No," Justin's voice cracked and he heard Daphne's sharp intake of breath.

"Fuck Brian if he hurt you I'm going to rip his goddam balls out and stuff 'em down his fucking throat. I don't even care if one of them is fake," she practically yelled and Justin felt a tiny smile play on his lips, even as a tear slipped silently from his eye, wetting the pillow beneath his head.

"It's not what you think," Justin murmured, so fucking confused about what he was feeling, and how he should feel and he just wanted someone to tell him what to do because he was damn frustrated with seemingly always making the wrong choice when it came to Brian Kinney.

"He said it," Justin added, closing his eyes and replaying the moment. "He told me he loved me."

"Oh my fucking God. Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck. Are you okay? I _am_ gonna rip his balls off. Fuck! What in the hell was he thinking!"

"Daphne," Justin pleaded. He appreciated her anger but he just needed his friend to listen. She could rant later.

"I'm sorry," she answered. "How in the hell did this happen?"

"Michael called me Wednesday night and told me he was in town. That Emmett had accidentally let it slip that I was also in Pittsburgh and that when Brian heard he went apeshit. I guess he was pretty desperate to see me-,"

"Finally. Let him chase you for once," Daphne grumbled, interrupting him.

"Stop it, please," Justin sighed and Daphne apologized before urging him to go on.

"I decided to track him down. I wanted to get him out of my head once and for all and I thought finally, this would be my chance. I figured he'd be at one of three places, either his favorite bathhouse, Babylon, or Woody's. I tried Woody's first because honestly, I couldn't have handled seeing him with someone else at the bathhouse or at Babylon. Luckily he was at Woody's. When he asked me back to his hotel room to talk, I went."

"Justin," Daphne groaned and he could imagine her sitting with her head in her hands.

"I know, but Daph, it felt safe. It felt okay because he seems different. It's like I said before – something in him has chilled out, or something. At least that's what I thought. So I went with him. And we argued. He actually got mad at me for deciding to go back to LA to work on Rage without discussing it with him first! As if he ever discussed any of his life plans with me before making decisions," Justin laughed bitterly.

"Can you believe that?" Justin asked, but when Daphne was silent he felt his chest tighten.

"Well, I can kind of. Not that he's right, but I can see why he'd think that," she said, and Justin clenched his jaw to keep from saying something he might regret later. "It was unfair for him to say it, but I imagine he must have felt pretty shitty when after asking you to move in, you told him that instead you were moving to Los Angeles to work in the movies."

"Daphne," Justin's tone was warning; how could she be defending him!

"I'm sorry Justin," she sighed, "I love you more than anyone and I will always be on your side, but you and Brian have always had these roles with each other and historically you never would have made a decision like that without talking to him. You wouldn't have asked his permission, nor should you have, but you would have at least talked about it. That's all I'm saying. "

"Fine," Justin sighed. He could see her point, and he hadn't considered it from the perspective, but even so Brian had had no right to suddenly throw it back in his face – not after he was so encouraging about going to LA and missing the Liberty Ride. God, the entire situation was so fucked up!

"Anyway," Justin moved on, "it wasn't pretty. But then he said it. I honestly think he thought it would keep me there. That it would make up for everything else. And when I still wanted to leave even after his declaration, that's when he grabbed me and kissed me," Justin heard Daphne's audible gasp.

"Oh fuck no. Did he force you? Justin?"

"No. I mean I didn't want to kiss him but then once I was I didn't want it to stop. I'm fucked Daphne. I mean I knew I still had feelings for him and still cared but I didn't know how deep those feelings went until that fucking kiss. I'm scared and confused, and angry... Because I still love him and now I know he loves me…."

"Fuck! What do I do? Tell me what to do, please." Justin begged.

Daphne was silent on the other end of the phone and Justin, beginning to sweat under the confines of the blankets, tossed the covers back and took a deep breath of the cool air as it hit him, making him shiver with the immediate chill.

"Justin. I-," she paused and he could see her in his mind's eye, leveling him with her wise-beyond-her-years stare, "you have got to stop this pining. You need to put him behind you. For good."

"Think back; remember what he did to you. Do you remember how he made you feel? Not just with the movie premiere but even before then. He wasn't good for you. Sure, there were moments, but it was mostly bad – I remember because I was there to pick you back up after each painful moment, and there were a lot of them. Do you really think anything would be different now?"

That was the million dollar question – would anything be different? Brian had confessed his love, but if Justin was to forsake Aaron and the safety and comfort and security (and love) he had with him, would he be trading it in for more of the same old shit he'd dealt with eight years ago? Would he be once again facing random tricks in his bed, and cruel lectures, and drinking and drugging and scoffing at the slightest romantic gesture? And could Justin really go back to that? Just because he still "loved" Brian? Was only love enough? No…he didn't think so – yet when faced with the prospect of putting Brian permanently in his past he grew terrified.

"I don't know Daphne, I just don't fucking know."

"It's just-," Justin paused, chewing on his lip, "I've loved him for almost half my life. He's consumed me in every way, and I don't necessarily mean that in a good way because you're right. He has hurt me a lot. I could argue I've hurt him too, though. Remember Ethan? But he _still_ consumes me and I can't get rid of him. Or maybe I don't want to get rid of him. I don't know. What I do know is I'll probably love him forever, but that doesn't mean we should be together, right? I mean, how many times will he hurt me before I learn my lesson?"

"That's what I'm saying. How many times _will_ you let him hurt you before you realize you two are like oil and water? I know you love him, and it's nice to know he loved, or loves, you, but love isn't enough. Not anymore. You've moved beyond that, right? Aaron has been good for you. You demand respect, and safety, and commitment, and those are good things."

"Yeah," Justin sighed, begrudgingly agreeing with her.

The thing was, it was Brian, and that was what Justin simply could not let go of. Brian, who was still beautiful, and graceful, and powerful, and strong, and smart, and tempting, and…

"You know what you've got to do, don't you?" Daphne asked, interrupting his dangerous train of thought.

Justin was afraid he did know, and he knew it was something he didn't want to do.

"You've got to talk to Aaron."

"I know. I think I'm going to go back to Boston."

"And while you're there you're going to talk to him, right?" Daphne's tone was questioning, pleading almost.

"I don't know," he grumbled.

"Justin," Daphne sighed, "Come on."

"What? I'm going to spend Aaron's last week in Boston with him. How is that a bad thing."

"It's not. But you need to talk to him," she added pointedly. "Jesus. Five fucking minutes ago you were crying to me about Brian and how you don't know what to do. What you need to do is talk to your fucking fiancé!"

"I wasn't crying," Justin stubbornly retorted, though they both knew he was deluding himself.

"Fine," she said, "but you're walking a fine line here. It's obvious to me that things are more stirred up with Brian than they were before, at least more than you thought they were before. Hell, you flat out admitted to still loving him. So what are you going to do? Because I don't think ignoring it is going to work anymore and you know Aaron is going to notice something is up. You aren't very good at hiding your emotions."

She was right, and Justin knew that. But that didn't mean he liked it. The fact was, Brian still got to him; he still elicited strong emotional and physical responses in Justin, and Justin still desired him. Not just physically, but mentally. He missed talking to him – the times when Brain would talk, that was. But everything else (other than the sex) was _so fucking hard_ with him. There were many faces to Brian and while Justin had thought that he'd finally figured him out, after Stockwell and after the cancer, when he never showed up for Rage he realized he likely had never known Brian as well as he'd thought. The Brian that Justin had thought he'd known, the Brian Justin loved with everything he had, wouldn't have treated him that way and that was nearly as devastating to realize as Brian's actions themselves had been.

He loved Brian, yes; but he loved Aaron, too. He wouldn't have stayed with him for so long if he didn't. He wouldn't have said yes to his proposal if he didn't. But Brian was Brian and he had this fucking power over him…

"Fuck, Daph," Justin groaned, hating how suddenly unsure and confused he was feeling. He knew what he wanted, which was Aaron and everything he gave Justin, but he couldn't stop the thoughts of Brian, and all the "what if's" that came with those thoughts, from dominating him.

"This situation is so fucked up. I love them both, and I can't figure out how to stop loving one of them," he added purposefully keeping it vague because no matter what he said and what Daphne told him, Justin still wasn't sure he was ready, or willing, to give up on Brian. Sure, he had made his choice when he'd left Brian's suite in Pittsburgh but that didn't mean he wasn't still questioning the decision. He'd probably question it forever – leaving the biggest "What If?" possible, hanging over him.

"I know," was all Daphne said in response.

* * *

Justin left for Boston the following day, after getting Emmett's ten-cent tour of his small, but very impressive, office and part-planning central. Justin was proud of Emmett for everything he'd accomplished. The only thing missing from his life was someone to share his success with. A while ago he'd reconnected with an old friend from High School, Calvin Culpepper, but they had only lasted about a year. Once Prop 14 passed, Calvin left Pennsylvania and he didn't return when the Proposition was overturned a few years later.

As for Drew Boyd, the other "one that got away" according to Emmett, there were occasional reports of him in the news. He'd left professional football two years after his coming out; he'd been seriously injured and could no longer play, but he hadn't come back to Pittsburgh. Last Emmett heard he was in Miami. He told Justin that letting Drew go was his biggest regret, but he had to keep faith that the right one would come along eventually. That, of course, brought thoughts of Brian back to Justin and he spent the rest of the afternoon with Emmett struggling not to spill his guts and elicit advice from him.

That evening, he boarded a flight to Boston and tried desperately to leave all thoughts of Brian behind in Pittsburgh.

He was marginally successful.

It was all worth it though, to see Aaron's face when he opened the door of his temporary Boston apartment and saw Justin standing there with his bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey," Justin grinned and laughed at the surprised look on Aaron's face, and in that moment, all seemed right with the world.

* * *

_****2009****_

_After Justin woke up in the strange apartment, calmed only by the open and friendly face of Aaron, he accepted some coffee and eggs but then quickly left. He was embarrassed, and angry with himself for getting into such a bad situation that he needed "saving". Justin had never needed saving before, and he was determined never to need saving again._

_Before he left, Aaron gave Justin his phone number and told him to call if he ever needed to talk. Justin took it happily, but he was unsure whether he would ever call. He felt humiliated that Aaron had seen him so completely out of control, and though the other man reassured him he wasn't the least bit phased by the whole scene, Justin couldn't help but feel like he was a pity case. But on top of that, he wasn't sure he was in a place, emotionally, to strike up a new relationship – in fact he was damn sure he wasn't ready for any new romantic entanglements. But Aaron insisted there was no pressure - he was happy to just be a friendly ear to listen. So Justin pocketed the card, with his number, and promptly tried to forget about the awful night. And he never did return to that club again.__That night in the club – the complete loss of control – was a sign. Justin's life was an unrecognizable mess and he knew he had to do something, he had to take steps to improve his situation or he'd be back in that awful place trying once again (and unsuccessfully) to numb his feelings with drugs and booze. He didn't even like the way either of those things made him feel and he felt his anger at Brian flare up again. The bad habits he was perpetuating were learned, he was simply emulating what he'd seen Brian do to dull his pain. Well, Justin wasn't Brian and he refused to let himself take that same path. It was in that moment that he decided to quit it all. No more drinking, no more drugs. They never helped anyway – they were only ever a temporary reprieve to a far more deep-seeded pain. _

_Justin also felt the urge to get the hell out of LA for a bit. Taking his work and getting permission from his boss, he drove down the coast to San Diego. He booked a room at the Coronado Hotel and he planned to spend an entire week there, either on the beach or on his balcony, staring out at the ocean and finishing his work for the new film project he was working on. _

_It was only as Justin sat on the balcony of his room and watched the sun set over the ocean in vibrant and blindingly bright oranges and reds that he realized the timing of everything; his life falling apart so ridiculously and the "death" of Rage….both literally and figuratively._

_It wasn't lost on him that all his life drama was culminating in the weeks leading up to the release of the final issue of Rage. He and Michael may have been done actually working on the last issue for months, but the release of the last issue hadn't happened yet and was approaching. It would truly mark the end of an era, the end of something that had opened numerous doors full of incredible opportunities for Justin; and had also, in part, been responsible for ending what had been Justin's most important relationship up to then._

_Rage. Justin was glad to see it go, but he also felt bittersweet. It had been a huge part of his life, good and bad. And it had kept a piece of Brian alive in him – though maybe that was the real problem. With Rage still alive, he was unable to get rid of Brian. Now that Rage was dead, maybe he could also let go of Brian and move on. _

_And Rage was dead. He and Michael, after weeks of what felt like endless debates, had decided to kill Rage. It was the only way they could see the comic ending, and Justin thought it quite apropos considering how Brian lived his life, constantly on the edge, courting danger quite willingly and without concern for consequences of his actions. Justin actually thought Brian would be proud of them for having the balls to kill Rage off – and that just made him angrier still._

_But in the end the week in San Diego had the desired effect on Justin. With Rage officially over and Justin's new lease on life freshly minted, he determined it was high time he got his shit together. Upon his return to LA, Justin packed up all the RAGE-related stuff that littered his apartment and while he initially wanted to toss it all into a dumpster, rational minds prevailed and instead he buried it at the bottom of his storage closet, beneath the inherited Christmas decorations and his old sketch pads and art projects from high school. He thought, maybe hopelessly optimistically, that one day he might be able to look at Rage and not feel contempt and repulsion.__A few weeks after that, when he was cleaning out his jacket pockets, he found Aaron's number, and he decided to give himself a chance at something new, and he called him._

_For the first few weeks of their official acquaintance, they simply talked. Aaron patiently listened while Justin described how he'd come to be in LA, and how he'd come to be completely fucked up that night in the club. He didn't use names or describe anything in detail, but he told Aaron enough that he was sufficiently angry on Justin's behalf for the treatment he'd suffered. _

_But it was after Justin told Aaron about the bashing that their relationship moved to the next level. They'd been spending a lot of time together, weeks, just talking and getting to know one another. Neither one had made a move, because both of them were still healing. Justin spent that time telling Aaron, in general terms, about Brian, and Aaron telling Justin about his own painful breakup with a man he'd been with for three years. In fact they'd been planning on getting married one day – before Aaron came home and found him in a threesome with their neighbors. It made Justin feel better to know he wasn't the only one to experience such pain in a relationship with someone who was supposed to be "the one". _

_Justin had thought, maybe naively, that Brian was it for him. He had wanted Brian to be it for him._

_So it was when Justin described the bashing to Aaron, and how his boyfriend at the time hadn't come to see him for months while he struggled with therapy and learning to throw a fucking ball again, he found himself not unpleasantly caught off guard when Aaron leaned over and kissed him. It was a soft, closed-mouth peck on the lips, but Justin saw and felt the growing attraction and passion behind it and after only a brief moment's deliberation he reached out and grabbed Aaron, pulling him to him and kissing him proper. Things quickly escalated and they were soon in the bedroom. That was night Justin finally locked Brian away – unresolved feelings and all – and he never spoke of him again to anyone; not until he saw him in Boston three years later._

_After three months of dating, Aaron moved out of the apartment he shared with Jeremy and moved in with Justin. Another few months later, Aaron presented Justin with a promise ring and asked him to marry him, when it finally became legal again. Justin, who felt more like himself than he had felt in years – since before moving to LA – said yes immediately. He was in awe of Aaron, and how safe and warm and loved he made Justin feel. It was all he craved in life, and he was happy. _

_The countdown to the day they could make it officially legal began that night. After making love Justin sketched them on the beach, walking hand in hand together, and Brian and his past with him became nothing but a dusty, dank memory that barely registered a moment's thought or consideration any longer. He had been locked away months prior, but with Aaron's proposal, Justin padlocked the door again, and threw away the keys. _

_He was moving on, and he couldn't have been happier about it._

* * *

The week Justin spent in Boston he was successful in keeping all thoughts of Brian at bay. He and Aaron spent time walking around the city and exploring Cambridge. Justin found the history and architecture inspiring, and he thought one day he'd bring Molly, who was studying architecture at Penn State, to the city as well. She was more into the modern stuff, but he was sure she would appreciate the historical significance and beauty of Boston and its surrounding towns and cities, too.

He and Aaron talked about everything – except the one thing that had been prominent on Justin's mind for the last few months. He was pretty sure Aaron knew he was struggling and he was pretty sure he knew it was Brian-related, but he said nothing and Justin wasn't sure if that was good or bad. What he knew was he felt guilty imagining wedding scenarios (the main focus of their talks that week in Boston) when he still harbored strong, unresolved feelings for another man.

It wasn't until Justin and Aaron boarded their flight back to Los Angeles, most of Aaron's belongings getting shipped back via UPS, that Justin was faced with the reality of his situation. Back in LA, things might return to normal, but could he lock his escaped feelings back up? Particularly when the feel of that kiss with Brian still lingered, forcing itself upon Justin at the most inopportune moments, like when he was in bed with Aaron?

He didn't know what would happen, and it only made him more irritable and frustrated the closer the plane got to landing in Los Angeles. Justin refused to answer when Aaron pressed him to tell him what was wrong, and in the end Aaron gave up, pissed himself because Justin simply would not talk. It wasn't fair, but Justin had kept his meeting with Brian a secret now for a week, and it was too late to tell him about it now. Justin was stuck with the memory of it, and the memory of his visceral reaction. The memory of Brian's hands on him, and the memory of his hands on Brian.

It caused him to snipe at Aaron, and they fought constantly, having more stupid little arguments their first several days back than they had their entire first year together. Justin knew Aaron just wanted to help him; he just wanted Justin to talk to him (he told him as much), but Justin couldn't. He wouldn't. He was determined to handle the monster he'd let escape all on his own; he was determined to get it back into its cage and locked back up where no one could disturb it again. It was just a matter of time…

Four days later and after a particularly nasty argument over dirty dishes left in the sink, Justin was surprised to get a call from Michael. Aside from their conversation in Pittsburgh, when Michael told Justin Brian was in town and wanting to see him, they hadn't really talked much (or at all) the past few years. He left on walk to get some privacy for the call, and to cool down and give Aaron space to do the same.

"I wanted to make sure Brian behaved himself," Michael replied when, after pleasantries were exchanged, Justin asked him why he was calling.

"He was fine," Justin answered, not in the mood to rehash it all with Michael. He could only assume Michael had made up with Brian, and while it wasn't too surprising, it was still another frustration to add to the long list of frustrations. Michael had been as cruel as Justin over the last few years when it came to ripping Brian and his unexplained actions apart. Yet Michael forgave him; he should have been surprised. Michael always forgave Brian, and if Brian had offered up an apology to Michael like he had to Justin – well, then of course Michael had taken him back. That was what Michael did and had always done. Justin had just thought maybe the pattern was finally broken, but it would appear not.

"I told him if he hurt you again that he and I were truly done," Michael stated, and Justin could hear how proud he was of himself in his tone of voice, "I can't be friends with someone who treats people like he treated you."

Justin rolled his eyes. Yet here Michael was doing just that. Brian may have apologized, but Justin wasn't convinced it was entirely sincere, or even that Brian wouldn't end up hurting Michael, and everyone, again one day. It seemed to be what he did – whether by conscious choice or not.

"Well, he didn't hurt me," Justin replied shortly.

"So are you guys okay now?"

"Fuck no," Justin laughed, to his surprise.

"Oh, I thought maybe…if he apologized…," Michael sounded nothing like the forty three year old father and business owner that he was, rather he sounded like a wounded ten-year old kid trying to figure out why his parents were divorcing.

"It's beyond a simple apology at this point," Justin sighed. "And I'd really rather not discuss it."

"Okay," Michael said, sounding disappointed, "sorry."

They sat in silence for what seemed like forever before Justin hear Michael clear his throat.

"You should have heard Mel go off when I told her he had come back and apologized to me," Michael went on, apparently unwilling to let it go. "But I told her it was my life and he was my friend. I really believe he is sorry. I mean, didn't he seem different to you?"

Justin considered his words carefully.

"Yes. He did seem different, but still the same in many ways, too."

It was obvious Michael wasn't going to let it go, so Justin gave him a tiny bit of reassurance. Justin couldn't blame Michael for taking Brian back. They'd been friends for nearly thirty years. That was a long time. And no matter what hurts Brian inflicted on Justin, he could understood why Michael would chose to forget those in favor of taking his friend back; hell, Justin could see himself making the same concessions for Daphne. And Michael had always been very forgiving of Brian's behavior. Justin just hoped it didn't come back to bite him in the ass again.

"Yeah," Michael agreed.

"How's JR? She must be huge now!" Justin abruptly changed the subject; he no longer wished to discuss Brian with Michael, and though Melanie occasionally sent him email updates about her life, she rarely sent pictures of JR – the last one Justin had seen was from two years ago and he was insanely curious to hear about her.

"Yeah, she's growing like a weed, eight years old now. She looks so much like Melanie, though Ben says she has my soulful eyes," Michael laughed, "he thinks I have soulful eyes."

Justin bit his tongue. Soulful wasn't the word he'd use.

They hung up a few minutes later and Justin returned home where he and Aaron had aggressive make-up sex for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

But the conversation with Michael hung like a black cloud over Justin's head and he found himself feeling restless. Finally, a few days later, he decided to call Lindsay knowing that of anyone still in Brian's life she would be the most truthful and candid to Justin regarding him.

"How was your Thanksgiving with your parents?" Justin asked after their mutual hellos.

"It was nice. I think Gus liked it, which is all that mattered," Lindsay responded.

"Good. Good," Justin said, distracted. He hadn't seen Gus since the movie premiere and everyone had come out to LA. Lindsay sent him pictures at Christmas of course, and it was remarkable how much he looked like Brian, but he hadn't seen him in person for so long. He was probably as tall as Justin now...

"So," he paused, "did Brian say anything to you? After Thanksgiving? About me?"

"Brian?" Lindsay's tone was parts surprised and curious, questioning. "Uh, no he didn't. I didn't even know you knew he was in town, or he knew you were in town."

Shit.

"Uh, Michael told me. I saw him. Brian I mean. On Friday night," Justin said, feeling like a fool for outing himself. But he'd been certain Brian would have said something to Lindsay. Of everyone in his life, she seemed to be the one who he was the most open and honest with about things, even more than Michael, and especially when it came to his relationship with Justin. He could remember multiple times in the early years when Lindsay had been responsible for salvaging what little there was between them.

"Oh," she sighed as if coming to a realization, "that must be why he left suddenly."

"He left?"

"Yeah," she paused, "we were supposed to have dinner with Debbie and Carl on Saturday, but Brian called me really late Friday night and said he had to go back to New York. So Gus and I went without him. Deb was miffed to say the least."

Double shit.

Justin sighed, "It's my fault."

"I sincerely doubt that," Lindsay retorted. "Brian's responsible for his own actions."

"I suppose," Justin appeased her, but he was not convinced. Lindsay didn't know about their meeting, and nothing she could say could convince Justin that what had happened in that hotel room wasn't why he'd taken off suddenly.

"Are you okay?"

Justin sighed. He was not okay, but he was also quite certain there was nothing Lindsay could do to help.

"I'm fine."

* * *

After such a good week in Boston, Justin was unable to explain or account for why, upon return to LA, he felt irritated and annoyed by everything and everyone, and Aaron bared the brunt of his bad mood. Justin tried to chalk it up to the increased hustle and bustle of the approaching Christmas holiday, but after a week and a half of using that excuse as the reason behind their numerous arguments, Aaron finally called him out on it.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Aaron yelled after their third argument of the day – about where to put the Christmas tree no less.

"Nothing the fuck is wrong with me," Justin spat back, practically throwing the books he was emptying out of the small bookcase that sat in front of the window where Aaron wanted to put the tree.

"You're lying," Aaron said softly, "because this isn't you. In the last three years I've never seen you be such a fucking drama queen. You've never been so mean to me. I just wish you'd tell me what's bothering you."

Justin paused in his work and sighed. He looked up from his place on the floor. Aaron was standing over him, his face no longer angry but concerned, and worried, and, Justin thought, a little bit scared.

"Ever since we got back from Boston, hell, ever since Thanksgiving you haven't been acting like yourself," Aaron crouched down and ran his fingers through Justin's hair before cupping his face with both hands. "I just want to help. I want to make you happy but nothing I seem to do has that affect. If you want me to go, just tell me. But please stop punishing me for whatever it is that's bothering you – unless it's my fault. But if it is my fault, just fucking tell me. I'm sick of being treated like shit when I haven't done anything to deserve it."

Fuck. Justin felt his neck grow hot with shame. Aaron was right, of course. Justin was taking out his frustration and anger at Brian on him, and it wasn't fair – particularly because Justin refused to even broach the subject of Brian with Aaron; which was also unfair. But Justin did not want to let Brian into their relationship…even though he already was letting him in by taking things out on Aaron that had nothing to do with him.

"You're right," Justin nodded, reaching up to grasp one of the hands Aaron still held against his cheek. He brought his fingers to his lips and kissed the tip of each one.

"I'm sorry. I am. You've been nothing but wonderful and I've been nothing but awful. The last few months have been-," he paused, seeing Aaron's face register some understanding of what Justin was saying, "hard."

"I know they have. But babe, I'm on your side, always, so please let me help you – don't fight me."

Justin nodded, releasing Aaron's hand and reaching out to pull the other man down – Justin leaning back so he was lying on the floor and Aaron ending up on top of him.

"I love you, you know," Justin whispered, his hands disappearing into Aaron's hair and though he fought the comparison with every fiber of his being, he couldn't help but momentarily think about how Brian's hair, so thick and soft, felt in his fingers. Aaron's hair was stiff and wiry – but when Justin pulled Aaron into a kiss he expelled the memory of Brian; or he tried to anyway.

"Let's just focus on making sure your mom and sister have a wonderful California Christmas," Aaron said when they broke apart.

"Deal?"

Justin grinned, "Deal."

He might still be struggling within himself to reconcile his feelings for Brian – but every time Aaron was so understanding and forgiving of Justin's moodiness, he realized he was better off and that helped Justin put Brian further behind him, at least for the moment anyway.


	9. Shatter

"_i know the battles of chasing the shadows of who you wanna be  
it doesn't matter, go on shatter  
i'm all you need" _

**November 2012 – March 2013  
**Brian****

He knew Deb would be pissed for his skipping out on dinner. He knew he was testing an already tenuous and fragile acceptance of his apology to begin with. But he had to go. He had to get the hell out of Pittsburgh – and he wasn't entirely sure he could bring himself to ever come back. He could only hope Deb would understand.

After calling and waking Lindsay with his news of returning to New York, he headed straight for the airport and got on the first flight back to the city.

Everything had gone wrong. He might be back in with his circle of friends, but he was no closer to making things right with Justin. And as glad as he was to be on speaking terms with Michael again, he had been counting on Justin reacting differently to his apology and his proposition. Though who was he kidding? Justin was older, a man; no longer a young, impressionable, moldable teenager that Brian could bend to his will simply by showing him the slightest bit of affection.

"I'm a fucking idiot," Brian growled as he paced his apartment back in the city.

He honestly hadn't expected Justin to still be so angry, and he hadn't expected to get so angry himself. Hell, he hadn't realized he was even angry at all until Justin there, in his face, yelling at him. And then he'd felt guilty for feeling angry – because it wasn't like he and Justin hadn't talked about him going, though he had made the decision on his own Brian could clearly remember having to convince him to go. He was scared of losing Brian – he'd said as much. And that's what had happened; though not because of anything he'd done, but rather because of stupid choices Brian had made.

God, Brian hated that he'd ever thought cutting Justin off was a good idea, and he even more hated that damned trip to Boston that thrust all these emotions back into his face. He'd been okay, surviving, under the blissful ignorance of that time. He wanted that back; desperately.

Brian pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed Sean without checking the time.

"What?" Sean croaked in a voice thick with sleep.

"Want to come over?" Brian went straight to the point.

"Uhnnn - it's after two in the morning?" Sean replied with a yawn.

"So?" Brian retorted. "Tomorrow's Saturday. What do you have to do other than go to the gym? Sleep in and go later."

Sean sighed and Brian smirked. He had him.

"Fine. I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said before hanging up.

Brian fixed himself a drink, or rather three, in the time he waited for Sean to show up.

If Justin was really rejecting him for good and moving on, then it was time Brian did the same, right? What else _could_ he do – he certainly wasn't going to sit around and pine away for him. Fuck that. He'd been there and done that and he refused to repeat those awful years of regret. No – he had nothing to regret any more. He put it out there – those fucking words – he'd declared his feelings and Justin rebuffed him. Fine. Brian didn't need to be told again that he was no longer wanted or desired. Now at least he had an answer, and he could move on…as best he could.

"Take off your clothes," Brian said as soon as Sean came through the door twenty minutes later.

"Hello to you, too," Sean grumbled, but he did what Brian asked.

Brian thought Sean secretly enjoyed when he was bossy and controlling because he always did whatever it was Brian asked, and this time was no different. Sean leveled a gaze at Brian for a moment before he pulled his sweatshirt over his head and dropped his jeans swiftly, commando underneath. Brian was pleased to see he was half-hard already.

"Bed," Brian grabbed Sean's forearm and half pulled, half pushed him towards the bedroom. "I'll be there shortly."

Sean eyed him curiously then shrugged and disappeared down the short hall that led to the penthouse's three bedrooms, and Brian's home office.

Brian poured another glass of Beam and considered what he was about to do. There really was no going back from this…and he found he wasn't as averse to the thought as he had been before – Before Boston. Maybe it was better this way. After all, he and Justin only ever hurt each other and who wants a relationship like that? Not even Brian was that masochistic. Maybe this was the best thing after all – Justin could live his life in Los Angeles with Aiden, or Adam, or whatever the fuck his name was, and Brian could see what might be possible with Sean…

Brian downed the drink, successfully ignoring the pit of dread that had begun making itself right at home in his gut, and walked quickly to his bedroom pulling his shirt off and unbuttoned his jeans on the way.

Sean was sprawled on the bed, arms crossed behind his head, staring expectantly at Brian as he appeared in the doorway.

"I thought you were in Pittsburgh until Sunday," Sean said softly.

"Apparently I'm not," Brian kicked off his jeans and grabbed his cock, squeezing and rubbing. He had also been commando underneath his jeans.

"Did something happen?" Sean said as he rose up on his elbows and licked his lips, his eyes traveling up and down Brian's naked form, lingering on his stiffening dick.

"No," Brian replied curtly and though Sean nodded, when his eyes met Brian's, Brian could see he didn't believe him. Not that it mattered. Sean didn't have to believe him for Brian to be able to fuck him – and that was all he wanted this night.

"Turn over," Brian said quietly and Sean offered a crooked smile before silently acquiescing.

This was how they worked. Sometimes Brian would talk to him about stuff, and sometimes he wouldn't. Sean had long ago stopped taking offense when Brian didn't want to talk – learning quickly that no amount of badgering or pressuring him would make him open up. It wasn't perfect, and Brian would hate himself for being a dick and eventually tell Sean what was bothering him anyway – so the being a dick part was really a moot point, but it was part of the process. Sometimes Brian wished he could just talk from the start – but sometimes his hurts could only be soothed by the feel of a hard, smooth body, and Sean seemed okay with being just that for Brian, too.

Brian knelt on the bed, crawling towards Sean ass, which was high in the air, beckoning Brian. Pumping his cock a few more times, Brian let go of himself to grip Sean's ass cheeks hard, squeezing and spreading them before he stuck out his tongue and ran it up and down his hole, spurred on by Sean's immediate response and breathy moans of encouragement. Brian wasn't the biggest fan of noisy sex partners, but something about the way Sean's moans were all heated exhalations and guttural sounds turned Brian on; spurred him to do more, to elicit more of those sounds. He found it fucking hot.

Sean pressed back against Brian's mouth, and Brian's tongue pressed into his hole, working it open and making Sean quiver in cadence with his moans.

Suddenly, Brian pulled back.

"What's wrong," Sean panted, rising up on his hands and turning to look back at Brian. His face was flushed and covered in a glistening sheen of sweat; his lips slightly parted as he struggled to regain a normal breathing pattern.

Sean's cock, fully hard, hung stiff and purple, engorged and dripping thick strands of pre-cum onto the dark sheets. Brian stared at it, slightly transfixed by the slowly growing circle of wetness as he fully considered what he was planning to do next. In theory, it hadn't seemed like such a big deal but now, faced with it, he was finding it was kind of a huge deal. There was no going back; this was it, the turning point. It felt right somehow, but also so fucking wrong, particularly knowing how Sean felt about him…

Fuck it.

Brian moved quickly, so he wouldn't have any more time to talk himself out of it. He sat up and gripped Sean's hips roughly, twisting him onto his back before climbing on top of him. Brian let his now fully hard and dripping cock trace a wet line up the other man's thigh before he lowered his hips and pressed their cocks together. They slipped and rubbed against each other, self-lubricating with the wetness leaking out of each of them.

"What are you doing," Sean gasped, staring up at Brian with wide eyes, his breath coming in bursts.

"Isn't this what you want," Brian murmured, lowering his head until he was hovering just a few centimeters above Sean's.

"Yes," Sean gasped and Brian could feel the heat of his breath, could smell the hint of mint from his toothpaste, "but not like this."

"Not like what," Brian pressed down harder, grinding his hips against Sean, savoring the quivering heave of breath the other man sighed; savoring the feel of Sean's long fingers suddenly gripping at his ass, massaging his cheeks while they crept ever closer to what had previously been no-man's-land between them. Brian couldn't deny it felt glorious to have another man's hands on him like that and he wondered why he'd waited so long. He'd been depriving himself of this pleasure and for what? Some noble sense of self-punishment? It wasn't worth it. Nothing was worth giving up _this_…

If Justin was no longer an option, as he'd proclaimed that very night, then Brian finally felt like all he could do was move on, too, and that meant allowing himself to enjoy sex again; not just the mechanics of it, but the closeness and the intimacy of it. The feel of another man's body beneath his, writhing just like Sean was – God it was fucking heaven and Brian silently cursed all the years he'd been holding back, keeping himself at arm's length from this feeling.

Fuck Justin and the hell he'd put Brian through.

"You either want it, or you don't," Brian whispered, tracing the tip of his tongue along Sean's upper lip and grinning when the other man lifted his head to try and capture his mouth.

"Shut up," Sean groaned, his fingers now poking into Brian's ass.

Brian paused for just one more millisecond, long enough to allow himself one final moment to figuratively say goodbye to Justin before he closed the door to his past for good. He wasn't sure he was ready to lock it up yet, but he was taking that first step and closing the door to those eight years, putting it all behind him, finally.

Very slowly, Brian lowered his lips and pressed them against Sean's, letting the other man set the pace and eagerly accepting his fervent kisses before he rolled on a condom and fucked Sean harder than he ever had before. Brian actually allowed himself to feel the other man beneath him, to know this time it was more than just a means to an end. This time signified something much more – but what that would ultimately mean was yet to be determined.

* * *

The next few weeks were more of the same. Sean came over, Brian fucked him within an inch of his life, they ate food, and sometimes Sean went home while other times, he stayed over. The difference in their "relationship" now with what it had been before Thanksgiving was the kissing – and Brian letting Sean in just a little more each day. He could feel the difference, and he was pretty sure Sean could, too – though Brian refused to talk about it and promptly shut Sean up with blow-jobs whenever he brought it up. Brian sometimes thought Sean brought it up just so Brian would suck him off. Whatever. Brian didn't mind, he loved Sean's cock.

But things were different between them, now. Brian had never treated Sean as detachedly as he did the very few tricks he'd had the last few years, but he'd also never treated Sean as intimately as he had Justin, before things had gone to shit.

Before Thanksgiving there had been no kissing, no face to face fucking, no hands or mouths anywhere near Brian's ass. Now he let Sean rim and finger him almost as much as he rimmed and fingered Sean – but he wouldn't let Sean fuck him. He had asked, more than once. But Brian refused to go there. Not with anyone ever again.

Sometimes they'd go out to dinner, but mostly they ordered in. Sometimes they'd go to Royals and play some pool, but mostly they just stayed in Brian's bedroom. Brian didn't mind. Between working and fucking Sean into the mattress he had hardly any time left over to think about Justin and that suited him just fine – it made ignoring the pit of dread in his gut that much easier. Though there were still just enough minutes in the day that at least once a day an image or a moment would float to the surface of Brian's memory. It wasn't all bad, but it only made missing the feel of that damn blonde worse. And as much has Brian enjoyed Sean's body (and he definitely enjoyed it), it was a little too angular, a little too hard, a little too unlike Justin.

Still – it worked, and Sean was happy. Brian could see it – and that was enough, at least for now. Sometimes Sean would try to ask Brian about what had happened to make him change the rules – but Brian refused to discuss it. He kept what had happened over Thanksgiving with Justin to himself, and he stewed over it and replayed it in his head when he couldn't sleep. He couldn't figure out where he'd gone wrong, other than making the wrong decision in the first place by not going to the movie premiere, and then compounding that bad decision with thousands of others by refusing to call or contact Justin again.

He felt some guilt over what he was doing to Sean, using him to forget Justin, but he was pretty sure Sean knew Brian's feelings hadn't changed. He was pretty sure Sean knew that just because he allowed him to kiss him didn't mean they were suddenly boyfriends, or that Brian loved him. At least he hoped Sean understood that. Not that Brian was against the idea of being with Sean, but he was still fighting memories of Justin and until he could face his past with that damned blonde twink there was no way he could let himself enter into a new, real, relationship with anyone else – even Sean, who already knew about most, if not all, of Brian's relationship and life-related insecurities.

The week before Christmas he and Sean had their last rendezvous before the holidays. Brian was headed to Vermont and would be gone until after New Year's.

"What am I going to do without you," Sean pinched Brian's nipple through his shirt and a painfully pleasurable bolt of sensation traveled down his torso and straight to his cock. They'd been spending every night together, and Brian had to wonder the same thing. He thought he might be wound up tighter than a clock (virgin's twat?) by the time he got back from Vermont after the New Year.

"Careful, we've no time for you to take care of the consequences of an action like that," Brian offered a small smile before backing away from Sean. There was no time for any messing about, he had to leave right away in order to catch the train to Montpelier.

As Brian moved about his apartment, gathering the last few things he needed to take together and making sure everything was in order, he could feel Sean's eyes following him. He couldn't get used to that feeling. Sean had a very intense stare and it seemed no matter what was going on Brian could feel it down to his bones. He sometimes wondered if Sean could see right through him, if he knew he was really struggling, with great difficulty, with the loss of Justin in his life and with trying to figure out if he wanted a new relationship or not… Sometimes, Brian would catch a very fleeting look of sadness in his expression – but he was masterful at covering it up and so Brian was never really sure. Still, it made what he was doing all the more difficult because no matter if he wasn't in love with Sean, he still didn't want to string him along and hurt him.

Bags in hand, he locked the apartment under Sean's same intense stare, feeling his eyes still on him as they rode the elevator down to the street where a taxi was waiting to take Brian to the train station. Sean remained silently watchful as Brian put his stuff into the cab.

"Call me when you get back?" he questioned.

"Yep," Brian nodded and offered a small smile before he climbed into the taxi and was on his way, leaving Sean behind and feeling a tiny sense of guilty relief for it.

* * *

Brian and Lindsay had alternated hosting Christmas since 2008 when Lindsay guilted Brian into coming to Vermont claiming Gus wanted him there. Gus had wanted him there, but Brian later found out Lindsay had played the Gus card a little heavy. Not that it mattered because Brian had had a great time and since then, they'd taken turns having the holiday celebration in either New York City or Vermont.

Brian left New York City on the 22nd. A few days earlier than usual but he was feeling anxious and antsy being in the city; Sean's hovering and watchful eye were making him increasingly nervous. He and Sean hadn't exchanged gifts, and they hadn't wished each other Merry Christmas but Brian had seen it in his eyes – he _wanted_ to do those things. The problem was Brian had no interest in it. Not with Sean. He'd celebrate Christmas with his son, because that was what Gus wanted and he'd always give his kid what he wanted, but outside of Gus Brian really had no use for the holiday, for any holiday.

Lindsay and Gus were glad to see him, and even though he spent the days leading up to Christmas working on Kinnetik business, they still spent time together in the evenings, going to dinner and even out Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve. It was on that night that Brian received the best gift he never knew he wanted, or needed.

The trio, a non-traditional but ridiculously functional little family, were walking through the brightly decorated downtown area of Montpelier. Lindsay was searching for a few last minute bits and bobs for various people. She paused outside a store that looked incredibly dull and boring to Brian and he sighed, his breath forming a thick cloud of dense fog as it hit the cold night air.

"I'll wait for you out here," Brian fell onto a bench, his boots crunching in the days-old snow that littered the sidewalks and streets even still.

"Me too," Gus fell down next to him and Lindsay surveyed them both with a smirk before disappearing into the card shop.

Father and son sat together quietly, bundled up tight against the cold. Brian could see Gus checking his phone out of the corner of his eye, and he smirked. He hadn't been sure when Lindsay told him she was getting him an iPhone for his birthday – we was only twelve after all – but he seemed to be responsible with it, and as far as Brian could tell he wasn't obsessed with texting and all the various forms of social media that were out there, at least not obsessed like most other kids his age. Brian was glad, because he remembered how he was at twelve, and he would have been dangerous with that kind of technology in his hands… He could only imagine the havoc he would have wreaked…

"So what's new on the internet, sonny-boy," Brian stretched his arm out along the back of bench behind Gus, leaning in towards his son with a smile.

Gus shrugged, pocketing his phone and staring down at his gloved hands.

Brian's brow furrowed – this wasn't typical Gus behavior.

"What's up?" He jostled Gus a little with his outstretched hand.

Gus shrugged again, but not before Brian thought he saw a blush creep up his cheeks, and it wasn't from the cold night air.

"Gus," Brian prompted him softly and Gus sighed deeply.

"There's this girl in my class…," he said with a pained expression on his face, and Brian had to suppress the urge to laugh.

Girl troubles already – yep, he was definitely his son – though Brian's troubles had always revolved around boys, and never very seriously until he reached High School.

"Ah," Brian smiled, "what's the problem?"

"She likes this other kid in our class. But he's such a jerk! I don't understand why she likes him when he's mean to her all the time!"

Gus was desperately pained and Brian saw so much of Lindsay, and himself, in him in that moment. The poor kid seemed to have inherited every emotional button both his parents possessed, and Brian was sorry for that. No kid should have to deal with such heightened emotions.

"All you can do is be her friend, and hope she sees the light regarding this other kid. Then, she'll realize you've been there all along and presto!" Brian said, hoping that was the right advice to give.

"I guess," Gus sighed and Brian playfully rubbed his head, forcing his beanie down over his eyes and eliciting a small snort of laughter from his kid – and the sound warmed his heart.

He wondered though, how he would fare as Gus got older and his girl problems progressed, at giving his son advice. He suddenly wondered if Gus would keep asking for his advice. Gus knew Brian was gay but would that deter him, someday, from asking him and telling him about his girl problems?

Suddenly Brian felt incredibly depressed.

"Hey, Gus," Brian looked down at his kid, who looked back at him expectantly, "you can ask me about anything, at anytime. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, dad," Gus shrugged.

"Anything," Brian reiterated, "anytime."

Gus nodded and Brian sat back, still feeling odd and like suddenly he wasn't enough anymore; he was afraid Gus was going to leave him behind. Suddenly, Gus leaned into him and nestled into Brian's armpit – like he used to do when he was much younger – leaning his head against Brian's shoulder.

A surge of love so overwhelming and powerful swept over Brian and for a moment he thought he might actually burst into tears – but it passed.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?" Brian saw Lindsay through the storefront windows at the cash register. She glanced out and smiled widely at him.

"I'm glad you're my dad," Gus said and Brian had to bite down hard on his cheek to stem another wave of unexpected emotions. To think, back when Gus was born he'd barely wanted anything to do with him. Oh, how things had changed…

"Me too, sonny-boy," Brian hugged Gus to him then let him go with a profound feeling of loss when Lindsay came out of the store and they moved on with their Christmas shopping.

Christmas in Vermont was always more tempered and low-key compared to the years when Gus and Lindsay came to New York City, and it was actually pretty nice. Brian appreciated the calm and especially this year, it was nice to get away from the madness of the city and just relax with two of the people who meant the world to him.

He and Gus spent much of Christmas Eve playing Mario Cart on the Wii Gus had gotten for his birthday months earlier, while Lindsay prepared dinner. Brian had offered to help her, but she just shooed him out of the kitchen and told him to spend time with his son. When Lindsay was like that, Brian couldn't help but feel incredibly thankful for her. Many other women might have been glad to have had a disinterested father, or sperm donor rather, like Brian had been in the beginning, but Lindsay had actually been the reason he'd seen Gus as much as he had when he was a baby – and Brian didn't think he could ever thank Lindsay for those moments. Another great regret in his life; that it had taken four years and a bout with cancer to figure out he wanted to know his son, and he wanted his son to know him, too.

After dinner, the three of them all played more Wii Sports before Gus fell into bed, exhausted, near midnight.

Brian and Lindsay sat up a little longer, chatting about nothing really. Lindsay had met a non-traditional Graduate Student applicant who had piqued her interest, but ethically she wasn't sure how to proceed. Brian urged her to go for it – he was tired of seeing her alone, and lonely. She often argued with him that she wasn't alone or lonely but Brian knew better. She hadn't dated anyone seriously since her split with Mel, and it depressed Brian to think of her alone every night. He might not want to hear about or imagine what she did with her dates and lovers, but that didn't mean he didn't want her to feel loved, and fulfilled, and fucking sexually satisfied.

Lindsay was an admissions counselor for the Vermont College of Fine Arts in Montpelier. She'd obtained her Master's Degree there after leaving Pittsburgh and after she'd graduated she'd been offered a job on the admissions board. She loved it, and Brian was glad to see her career fulfilling her, finally. She'd loved working at Sidney's gallery in Pittsburgh, but after the mess with Sam and her breakup with Melanie Brian thought that perhaps gallery work had been tainted for her, forever. Now he just needed to get her to take a chance on accepting some fulfillment in her personal life.

Christmas morning Gus was up with the sun, and not even an hour later his gifts were open, the living room was littered with bows, scraps of wrapping paper, empty boxes, and he was fast asleep on the sofa.

The big gift of the year had been a new snowboard and all the necessary accessories and gear for Brian and Gus's annual trip to Stowe Mountain Resort.

Every year, regardless of where the Christmas tree was set up and where the presents were stacked, after Christmas – from the 26th to the 31st – Brian took Gus to Stowe Mountain Resort for five days.

It was a trip that he and Gus had taken every year for the last five years, missing it just one time. When he was much younger Lindsay used to take him to the von Trapp Family Lodge – there had been a time when Gus had been obsessed with The Sound of Music – but then one year Brian took him snowboarding instead, and the von Trapp Family Lodge was promptly forgotten in favor of the snow sport.

Lindsay had accompanied them the first two years they went to Stowe Mountain, but then she quickly determined she hated skiing and she started staying back in Montpelier, giving Brian and Gus some much desired (by Brian anyway) bonding time. Brian was thankful because even though he saw Gus as much as he could, he still felt like he didn't get to see him enough. The kid was growing up and changing so fast it sometimes made his head spin.

That year they had a great time, as they always did. Brian spent the first two days skiing, before renting a snowboard for their last three days. He always fell a lot more on the snowboard, but Gus liked to watch him struggle and though Brian thought he could likely master the sport of he applied himself, he enjoyed making Gus laugh and so he didn't try too hard to improve.

On their last day at Stowe Mountain, Gus asked if maybe next year they could go to Sugarbush instead. It would seem the small resort at Stowe Mountain wasn't much of a challenge for Gus any longer. Brian nodded and replied maybe, keeping to himself his plans to take Gus and Lindsay to Colorado instead. He'd gone to Vail for Spring Break with a big group of friends his Junior year of college, and it had been fucking amazing. He knew Gus would love it – though it might ruin him for snowboarding anywhere else other than the West afterwards.

That night, their last in Stowe, they were having dinner at the Lodge when Gus brought up another topic of conversation that distracted Brian for the rest of the night.

"I heard mom on the phone before you came," Gus said suddenly, between mouthfuls of the giant piece of lasagna he'd ordered.

"She was talking about you," he added and Brian arched an eyebrow.

"You shouldn't listen in on other's phone calls," Brian said and Gus shrugged.

"It was an accident. I had to call Peter 'cause I left my phone at his house," Gus said, "and when I picked up the phone mom was on it, talking to some guy."

"And it was about me?" Brian asked, and Gus nodded.

"Who was it?" Brian asked, his heart in his throat as he hoped that maybe, just maybe it was Justin. Because if Justin was calling Lindsay and talking to her about him, then his declaration that Brian leave him alone, his "choice" – such as it was – to leave Brian and go back to Aaron, might not be as iron-clad as he'd led on and the thought of that, the smallest potential of that, the tiniest sliver of hope was all Brian needed to let that door open back up. He liked Sean, and he was comfortable with Sean, but he _wanted_ Justin – he loved Justin.

"Dunno. But mom was talking about when you lived in Pittsburgh before. When I was a baby," Gus scooped another giant forkful of lasagna into his mouth and chewed, staring at Brian.

"I didn't listen for a long time," Gus said, "I just remembered just now."

Brian nodded and offered a tiny smile, taking a bite of his pork tenderloin even though he was no longer hungry. He was glad they were headed back to Montpelier in the morning because he really, really needed to talk to Lindsay.

* * *

The next morning Brian roused Gus far earlier than necessary, and they were on the road back to Montpelier by 8am.

Lindsay was surprised to see them back so early, and when Gus ran up to his room to go back to bed and sleep, Brian pulled Lindsay into the kitchen.

Steaming mugs of coffee in front of them, Brian began peppering Lindsay with questions, much to her apparent surprise.

"Gus said you were talking on the phone to some guy about me," Brian cut to the chase, "was it Justin?"

"Firstly, Gus was listening to my phone conversation?"

"It was an accident, and you can ground him or whatever later. Just answer my question," Brian cupped his mug in his hands, using it as a tether for his frayed nerves.

She sighed, and that's when Brian knew it was true.

"It was Justin," he said softly, and hope rekindled, the pit of dread in his gut loosening its hold just a little bit.

"Why didn't you tell me you saw him in Pittsburgh?" Lindsay countered and Brian shrugged.

"It didn't go well, and I didn't think it much mattered after how we left things," he sipped his coffee, feeling something akin to euphoria that maybe, just maybe he could still get Justin back. The question was how. He still lived in LA, and the odds that they'd cross paths again were slim to none…

"And how'd you leave things?" she asked. Brian just stared at her and after a moment she sighed.

"Well, _he_ seemed to think you might have talked to me about it," Lindsay said.

"And?" Brian ignored her veiled dig and pressed her for more.

"And nothing. It was a brief conversation, and he didn't say much other than to ask if you'd said anything to me. I told him no, and that you skipped out on dinner with Debbie and Carl to go back to New York. Justin seemed to think it was his fault. I told him no, and then we said goodbye," she shrugged.

"Which, by the way, you should really call Deb. She was angry, and hurt that you'd cancelled. I think she wanted to see you more than me, or Gus even," Lindsay added. Brian sincerely doubted that, but he understood Lindsay's meaning.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll call her," Brian said absently. Justin had called Lindsay to ask about Brian…but why? What had he hoped to gain, or learn?

"You're going to try calling Justin too, aren't you?" she asked, and Brian shrugged.

"Maybe," he sighed, or maybe not. He wasn't quite sure what the correct course of action should be; he needed to consider things because he wasn't sure if he didn't fuck things up that he'd have any more chances. This just might be it...the last gasp.

He stood and topped off his coffee, staring for a moment out the window in the kitchen at the snowy white landscape.

"What about the other guy?"

Brian turned around slowly, his brow furrowed.

"What other guy?"

Lindsay crossed her arms and stared at him, "The guy you see in New York. What's that about?"

Brian raised his eyebrows in surprise. He'd told no one about Sean, he hadn't even insinuated that there was anyone in New York. As far as anyone was concerned, he still lived his life tricking every night. At least that's what he let everyone believe, and what he had thought everyone believed, Lindsay included.

"I ask again," Brian moved back to the table and sat, "what guy?"

"Brian," Lindsay sighed, shaking her head.

"I know you have a "friend"," she quoted with her fingers, "so what is he? A hustler? A fuck buddy? Something more?"

Brian sighed, "He's not a fucking hustler. Shit."

"It's complicated," Brian added, thinking back to the weeks leading up to Christmas and how he'd allowed Sean to think things between them were moving forward. Maybe Brian had wanted things to move forward…then. But now; knowing what he did about Justin's apparent need to reach out to Lindsay and ask after Brian… Now Brian found himself struggling too – what was he going to do with Sean when he got back to the city?

"Be careful," Lindsay leaned forward then, placing her hands on Brian's forearm. "I worry about you. You're heart. You're far more delicate than you let on."

Brian wanted to scoff at her, to belittle her use of the word delicate – but he couldn't. The earnestness of her expression and the emotion behind her words was far too raw and real. He couldn't tease her for that. He wouldn't.

"I'll be fine," he replied instead, wondering if he really would be.

* * *

January 2nd, 2013, Brian returned to New York City.

When he got back to the penthouse Brian found Sean had left him a note and a gift certificate for his favorite Thai take-out place. It appeared that Sean had taken a last minute trip to Florida with his sister and her husband. He'd be back on the fifth and for some reason, his absence irritated Brian.

The one thing he had counted on, upon returning to the city from Vermont, was Sean in his bed. Brian was horny as fuck – almost two weeks of masturbation alone was nowhere near equal to the feel of another man. But Brian would have to wait a few more days – unless he wanted to seek out a trick – and in his present state of mind he wasn't averse to that idea, though it had been almost six months since he'd fucked anyone other than Sean.

But first, Brian needed to take care of something he should have done weeks earlier; he called Debbie.

"It's about damn time!" Debbie screeched into the phone before Brian had even had a chance to say a word.

"I know," he said and he heard Deb sigh heavily.

"You wear me out," she said, her tone tempered. "What was the excuse this time?"

"Business," Brian lied, amazed at how easy it was, and unsure of if he really liked that it was so easy.

"MmmmHmmm," Deb hummed and he got the distinct impression she didn't believe him anyway.

"I am sorry I missed dinner," he added, "it really couldn't be helped."

"I'm just glad you called, though it took you long enough."

"How's married life treating you?" Brian forged ahead; not that he cared much about Debbie and Carl's wedded bliss, but at this point he wanted to do anything to keep the topic of conversation off himself.

"It's fucking fantastic," she replied and Brian laughed.

"I expected nothing less," he said.

"What else is going on in Pittsburgh these days? How's everyone doing?" Brian asked.

"_Everyone _is fine," Debbie said pointedly and Brian closed his eyes, "in fact Jennifer and Molly just got back from LA. They had a fantastic time; with _everyone_."

"That's great Deb, but that's not what I meant," Brian said quietly.

"No?" her voice again full of disbelief and seeming to challenge him to deny that he didn't want to know about Justin. He didn't argue with her any further.

"Did you know Molly's at Penn State?" Debbie said suddenly, and Brian shrugged to his empty apartment.

_So what, and who cares?_ He thought.

"So? And?" he said.

"She's in the school of Architecture. Isn't your old friend Albie the new Department Chair, there?"

"Yeah?" Brian screwed up his face in confusion. What the hell was this about and why the hell bring up Albie?

Brian hadn't talked to him for years, and he doubted Michael had either. Yes, they had hung out during college (coincidentally, Albie was one of the friends on the Spring Break trip to Vail), and yes he had tried to get Michael to go out with him – but it had never really gone anywhere and aside from trading mutually impersonal business Christmas cards each year, Brian hadn't thought about or spoken to him since he'd moved to New York.

"Well, Jennifer told me there's this fantastic seminar that Molly had wanted to get into this upcoming semester. But it filled before she could. She's really upset about it. That's all."

Oh, Debbie…

Suddenly Brian understood perfectly, and his irritation at Deb's apparent random train of thought suddenly shifted into love and adoration. It would seem she might be rooting for him and Justin after all…and Brian wondered what Michael had said to his mother; or what Lindsay had mentioned; or hell, what anyone back in Pittsburgh had been saying. But knowing his surrogate mother was trying to help – giving him an angle to work to get back into Justin's good graces – well – it filled him with even more hope and assuaged his annoyance that people were gossiping about him behind his back.

"Thanks Deb," he said, smiling to himself.

"I don't know what you're thanking me for," she said and Brian swore he could hear the smile that was certainly plastered across her face, "you still owe me a dinner – so when are you coming back here to pay that debt?"

* * *

The day before Sean was supposed to return from Florida, Brian got a call at work from Lindsay.

"I know this is last minute, and I understand if the thought of it sends you running, screaming for the hills, but I have a proposition," Lindsay rushed on, breathless.

Brian breathed a laugh, "What is it."

"The College is sending a group of us to Los Angeles at the end of the month for this conference at Cal Arts. It's a week long, and since Gus is still out of school until the beginning of February I thought I'd take him along. Go see the sights, maybe take him to Disneyland," she said.

Brian grimaced, _Disneyland?_

But also…Los Angeles.

"And why are you asking me to go," Brian said slowly, certain he already knew the answer.

Lindsay sighed.

"Well for one thing, I thought you'd like to spend some time with your son while he sees California for the first time," she said pointedly, "and for another, Justin is there."

"Justin," Brian scoffed.

"You've been pestering me about him for months, so yes, Justin."

"I have not been _pestering_ you," Brian grumbled, aware that in a way what she'd said was partly true. He had been asking Lindsay a lot of questions the last few months about the younger man – but it hadn't been pestering.

She stayed silent and Brian could imagine her sitting at the table, a knowing look on her face, expectant.

She had a point about Gus, and of course, Justin. But to be honest, Brian wasn't sure if parading himself in front of Justin again, so soon, was the best course of action – though he could go to California and not see Justin…but would the temptation of his proximity prove too much for Brian to resist? By this time he might already know that Molly got into her seminar, but would he know Brian had orchestrated it? And did Brian want to show up and be a braggart about it, as if to prove that he was somehow now worthy?

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"I don't think it's a good idea," he said finally, massaging his temples with his free hand, "and I'm not sure I could contain my disdain for the hordes of families at fucking Disneyland so it's probably best that I don't go. I wouldn't want to ruin it for Gus – he can still drink the magic Disney Kool-Aid."

"Brian-," Lindsay's tone was concerned.

"No. Okay? Just let it go, Linds," he interrupted. He could try and explain, but he wasn't sure she would get it; hell, he wasn't sure he got it but he knew it felt right. The timing was off and he wasn't sure it wouldn't push Justin away forever if he showed up now.

"Fine," she said, "I just hope you know what you're doing."

_Me too,_ Brian thought.

* * *

"We want to focus our television spots on hand-drawn animation," Hannah Marks, of Marks Markers, said to Brian.

It was early February, and they were sitting in the large conference room of the Kinnetik offices, going over the final plans for the print ads, and discussing the next phase of the campaign, the television commercials. Brian's team had presented a few ideas, but neither Heather nor her twin brother Hank, co-founder of the company with Hannah, had been particularly excited about what they'd seen.

"We want kids to get interested, but we want adult artists to realize what our products can do for them, too," Hank added, his sister nodding.

"Sure – we can do that. It's not a problem," Brian said with complete and utter confidence, though Kinnetik had never, in it's almost ten years of existence, been involved in a campaign that included hand-drawn animation. He had no idea where to even start, but that didn't deter him from promising Hannah and Hank that they'd have concepts ready for them to look at in a week.

"One week? Really?" Cynthia was looking at him with incredulity after the meeting was over and the clients had gone. "Do you even know what the hell you're doing?"

"Nope," Brian zipped up his briefcase and stood from behind his desk. He and Sean had dinner reservations and if he didn't leave immediately he wouldn't make it back to Chelsea in time to change and meet Sean.

"I want everyone to have ideas ready to brainstorm tomorrow morning, 9am," Brian grinned as Cynthia scowled at him, shaking her head.

It was later, at dinner, when lightning struck and Brian knew _exactly_ how they were going to pull off the animation angle. By the time he and Sean had left the restaurant for Royals to play some pool, he even had an entire 30-second spot storyboarded in his head. Later, when Sean came back to the penthouse, Brian let his brilliant idea fuel him as he rammed into Sean – so turned on by his strike of creative genius that he managed to go four rounds – a feat he'd not been able to accomplish for years.

"And to what do I owe this amazing performance," Sean panted after the fourth time. His ass was red and Brian knew he would undoubtedly be sore in the morning but he was grinning anyway.

"I was inspired," Brian replied and though Sean was certain to think it was due to him, Brian didn't even care to correct him because he had a plan – and he was beginning to think it all might work out in the end after all.

* * *

The end of February and the start of March saw the Marks Markers campaign nearing completion – and from what Brian had seen, the art was amazing. He could hardly believe it had all worked out. He'd been initially nervous, as had the company that had been contacted to do the animation. But, after a few meetings in which Brian laid on his charm thick, the contracts were signed and the work began, put into the hands of one Justin Taylor – and Brian could hardly contain the thrill it gave him to know Justin was finally doing more than concept art for film, or comic panels. He only hoped his interests still lay with animation because this particular job could open many more doors for him in that arena…

Brian visited Vermont a few times, disappointed to hear that Lindsay and Gus didn't get to see, or talk to Justin at all while they had been in California. Gus wasn't too upset about it – he didn't even really remember Justin – instead he regaled Brian with tales of the Santa Monica Pier, Disneyland, and Universal Studios. Brian was really glad he'd had such a good time.

Lindsay though – she had been hurt that Justin couldn't make time to see them, and complained to Brian that he hadn't even called, he'd just sent her a text message and then nothing else. Brian tried not to imagine it was because of him that Justin was suddenly distancing himself from Lindsay – and Lindsay assured him she didn't think it was because of him, not when just a few months earlier he'd been calling her to ask about him. No, she thought it was probably Aaron making him feel guilty for fostering the relationship. Brian chose to agree with that assessment, and found another reason to dislike Aaron, in addition to the fact that he got to share Justin's bed – at the moment anyway.

But it wouldn't be that way for long. Of that Brian was feeling more and more confident.

Phases 1 and 2 of his plan to win back Justin had gone off seemingly without a hitch. And though he hadn't heard a word from Justin, officially, he still took that as a good sign, even with Lindsay's unfortunate interactions (or lack thereof) with Justin while she was in LA.

Unofficially, well, Brian hadn't let it slip his notice that over the last two months (and once before Thanksgiving) he'd gotten four calls from the same LA-area phone number. No messages were ever left, and the one time Brian answered there was only a brief moment of silence before the line went dead.

No – Brian was certain what he was doing was having the desired effect, and he felt somewhat giddy for it. Sean noticed the improvement in Brian's moods, and Brian tried not to consider how hurt he might be if, or he hoped when, he and Justin reunited. Sean didn't deserve to get hurt, but somehow the people who cared about Brian always managed to get hurt and the only thing that made what Brian was doing bearable was the thought of once again holding Justin in his arms.

But that outcome really depended upon Phase 3 of his plan to win back the affections of said blonde. What he did next would either seal the deal, or be the last of three quite impactful gestures meant to show Justin that Brian cared, and listened, and paid attention to everything. It wasn't a grand gesture, not in the overall scheme of romantic gestures, but it was grand enough and coming from Brian, well, he had complete faith Justin would understand the meaning behind it and he was certain it would be straw the broke the camel's back – good or bad.

The day of the premiere of the first ad coincided with Justin's thirtieth birthday. On that day, Brian had thirty red roses, thirty white roses, and fifteen each of deep lavender and dark pink roses delivered to Justin at his office in three large arrangements within ornately cut crystal vases. The plan behind scheduling the release of the ad on Justin's birthday was purposeful, it guaranteed Justin would be at work – and Brian needed him to be there to receive the flowers. He wasn't about to send them to him at his home he shared with Aaron – he couldn't run the risk of them being intercepted and tossed aside.

The day stretched on, and when the appointed hour of delivery came, and then went, without a call or an email or an acknowledgment of any sort from Justin, Brian began to worry something had gone wrong. He called the florist and was promised the delivery was made as he'd instructed, and Justin himself had signed for the delivery. Brian didn't understand then, why he hadn't heard from him yet. He was certain he would get a call – either one of the "leave me the fuck alone" sort, or, what he hoped was a call of the "let's try again" sort.

But there was nothing. No call. Not for three days, and Brian was climbing the walls by that time and driving Sean crazy with his anxiety which, again, he wouldn't explain to the other man. On the fourth day following Justin's birthday, Brian's phone finally rang with an LA-area number flashing, and Brian promptly answered.

"Justin?"

"No," the voice on the other end said and Brian pulled the phone away from his ear to look at the numbers again – only then did he notice that, while a Los Angeles number, the last two digits of the number were different than the other number he'd been getting calls from.

"Aaron," Brian sighed, closing his eyes.

"What are you trying to do?" Aaron replied, and Brian shook his head. This was not how the plan was supposed to work.

"Did Justin get the flo-," Brian started to ask, but Aaron cut him off, his voice increasing in volume.

"The flowers? Yeah, he got them. And now I'm asking you to stop. You got his sister into her damned seminar, you arranged for Justin to get that animation work, you sent him a fucking year's salary in flowers. It's enough."

"Does Justin say so?" Brian retorted, not about to lay off because Justin's supposed boyfriend, or fiancé, or whatever the fuck he was, said so. He was done sitting back and letting things happen around him – he was making his own happiness, or so he hoped; he was going to actively fight until he was told to stop.

"_I_ say," Aaron said, his voice low, "and that's enough. I'm telling you to stop."

"And I'm telling you that unless Justin himself asks me to stop, either in person or over the phone and with his own voice, I'm not going to stop."

"What do you hope to gain? You had your chance with him and you blew it. We're happy. We're planning a wedding. Why are you doing this now?"

"Because now is when I want to do it. The past is the past – it's behind me and I hope it's behind Justin, too. This is about the future – and Justin's future is with me, not you," Brian spoke with a conviction he had been unaware he felt – and it only strengthened his resolve to fight the more Aaron told him to stop.

"You think so, do you?" Aaron laughed and Brian hoped it wasn't wishful thinking on his part that his laugh seemed a little bit unsure, and nervous.

"Oh, I know so," Brian grinned, feeling the certainty of it in his heart – and ignoring the tiny bit of doubt that was trying to assert itself; because what if he was wrong? There was always a chance – as much as Brian liked to think there was no one in the world better than him the fact was there was always a chance he was wrong.

What if he'd completely misread Justin's apparent emotional struggles back at Thanksgiving? What if he'd misread the meaning behind Justin's calls to Lindsay? What if Debbie had been wrong to give Brian that little bit of hope? What if all those missed calls were really just Justin working up the courage to tell Brian to fuck off?

"I guess we'll see," Aaron retorted and Brian thought he sounded rather petulant.

"Yes, I guess we will," Brian responded, pushing all his doubts away and without another word, he ended the call and hopped in the shower. He was feeling frisky, and Sean was coming over in an hour.


	10. Broken Pieces, Pt III

"_broken pieces, break into me  
showing perfectly what you should be"_

**December 2012 – March 2013  
**Justin****

"I wanna go to Hollywood, and see Grauman's Chinese Theatre, and Disneyland! Oh mom, can we please go to Disneyland!"

Justin was driving back to his place having just picked up Molly and his mother from the airport. Molly hadn't stopped talking since they'd gotten into the car, and her iPhone was permanently stuck out the car window as she took picture after picture and posted them on her Twitter and Instagram. Apparently, she proudly boasted to Justin, she had over 300 followers on Instagram; whatever that meant. Justin still had a flip-phone. He didn't feel compelled to stay connected 24/7 like most people; like his sister, or like Aaron who also had the latest and greatest. Justin figured he and Molly could bond over their love of Apple products and technology since Justin never did engage with Aaron when he started ranting about the latest app, or whatever.

"We'll see, honey," Jennifer smiled at Justin, "we're only here five days, and one of those days is Christmas so don't count on it."

Justin heard Molly huff her annoyance in the backseat.

"I'm sure we can figure it out," Justin murmured under his breath, but his mother just shook her head.

"Every day since I told her we were coming she's had a different list of things she wants to do and see," she smiled. "Don't worry about it."

While Jennifer had come out for the Rage premiere, Molly had been too young to come and Craig had thrown a fit over it anyway – flat out refusing to give his permission. So this was Molly's first time to California and she was appropriately giddy. Justin could understand, his sister had always been exuberant and excitable.

"How'd your classes go, Mollusc?" Justin grinned at her in the rear view mirror, laughing when she screwed her face up in irritation.

"God, don't call me that!" she shuddered and Justin rolled his eyes.

"Classes went good, four A's and one A minus," she smiled and Justin nodded.

"Impressive," he smiled at his mother. He was glad one of her children was a scholar and would finish school. It bothered him occasionally, how he'd never finished and sometimes he thought about trying to go back, just to get that damned degree…but then he'd wonder why – he already had a great job and he was doing work he really enjoyed…still, the thought lingered at times.

"Yeah, except the special seminar for next year is already full," she grumbled.

"What special seminar?"

"Every spring the Architecture school brings in a working professional to host a six-week seminar. This semester it's Helena Rosenthal - and you know she's who inspired me to study architecture in the first place! But the seminar filled up over a week before I was even eligible to register. And there's already fifteen people on the wait list ahead of me. Basically, every single person signed up would have to drop the seminar for me to get in. It sucks."

"Sorry Molls," Justin glanced at his mother and she nodded to indicate this was a "very serious issue" indeed.

"Whatever," she sighed, crossing her arms and pouting for about five minutes before she was back taking photos out the car window and laughing with delight at all the new sights.

Aaron had ordered Chinese and had the table set and waiting when Justin got back with his mother and sister in tow. Everyone greeted each other warmly before they settled in to eat. It was only five minutes into dinner before Molly and Aaron were comparing their phones (Aaron had the brand new iPhone 5 while Molly still had the 4S) and Justin and his mother just exchanged knowing glances and observed them with amused expressions.

The following day Molly and Jennifer were up with the sun, a circumstance of the three hour time change from Pittsburgh to Los Angeles. Justin forced himself out of bed, leaving a snoring Aaron snuggled beneath the covers and taking his mom and sister on a morning hike up Runyon Canyon. Molly was beside herself, again, when she saw the view of the Hollywood sign afforded from the top of the trail.

"Oh, can we go to the Griffith Observatory? They filmed some of 'Rebel Without a Cause' there, you know!"

Molly bounced on her toes while grinning at Justin.

Smiling, Justin shrugged, "Probably."

"Yes!" she squealed and Jennifer laughed.

Later that day, after returning home and showering and napping, Justin took Molly (his mom wanted to stay home and wrap the Christmas gifts she'd brought cross-country) to Grauman's where she promptly tried to fit her feet into every celebrity's imprints, taking picture after picture on her phone all the while.

Justin watched her, finding her excitement a bit infectious and he even allowed her to take a few pictures of him pressing his hands and feet into the cement imprints of various stars. Then, when Justin's hands proved no bigger than Judy Garland's Molly fell into a fit of hysterics that, though Justin was irritated by, he found himself joining in with.

He and Molly returned home just a few minutes before Aaron also got back. He was busy with rehearsals for the "Christmas Spectacular" at the Hollywood Bowl and Justin, Jennifer and Molly had tickets for the performance on Christmas Eve – Justin was excited for his mother and sister to see Aaron play, finally. The concert promised to be pretty damn fantastic anyway, of that Justin was certain. The LA Philharmonic had never put on a bad concert in the three years Justin had been going in support of Aaron.

Molly scoured the tree with the newly wrapped presents beneath it, before the quartet went out for dinner. Justin was thrilled at the way the visit was going so far, and he hoped the next several days were as fun and drama-free as the first one had been.

The following day was the 23rd, and after much begging and pleading through breakfast, Justin gave in and drove Molly and his mother to Anaheim (not an insignificant drive in LA!), to Disneyland. Aaron had smirked and whispered "Good Luck" into his ear as he'd left for another day of rehearsals – this time on the stage at the Bowl – and Justin had swatted his ass as he passed. The crowds at Disney were likely to be insane, but his sister was determined and with nothing else more pressing to do, Jennifer finally gave in and said if Justin was willing to drive them, they could go.

That was how Justin found himself at Disneyland, two days before Christmas, amongst an oppressive crowd of loud, obnoxious tourists and families. He was certain there were no locals there – they all had to know better than to go to the park the week of Christmas; Lord knows, he was never going to attempt a visit to Disneyland around a holiday ever again!

Molly, her phone out and snapping pictures every other minute, adored the entire day though – the long lines and all. For that reason Justin couldn't be too annoyed; all he wanted was for his mom and sister to have a good time. As the sun set and the lights in the park started to come on, Justin found himself buying into the magic a little bit. It really was quite beautiful, the decorations; the lights draped over the castle and all the trees, like tiny glowing icicles. Yes, Justin now could see the appeal of coming to the park at the holidays.

When the fireworks started a little later, Molly was once again holding out her phone and snapping away. Justin laughed out loud when, not five minutes later she cursed angrily.

"Molly! Please," Jennifer hissed, glancing around them.

"Mom, don't worry," Justin laid his hand on her forearm.

"My memory is full!" Molly looked horrified as she held up her phone.

Justin laughed. "Well you must have taken like 300 pictures today alone," he added as Molly scowled, staring down at her phone and missing the colorful kaleidoscope exploding in the sky over the castle.

"You're missing the show," he elbowed her but she just growled something at him, her nose stuck in her phone.

"I took 556 pictures today, and 467 yesterday," she finally said, looking at Justin, her brow deeply furrowed. "See mom? This is why I needed the thirty two gigabit phone!"

Jennifer rolled her eyes and Justin smirked. Lord help them all.

Molly spent the drive back to West Hollywood trying to delete some of her photos and some of the many apps she apparently had to make room on her phone for more pictures.

"I should have brought my computer," she mumbled over and over and Justin had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

Christmas Eve Aaron was able to spend a bit of time with them in the morning, and they went out to breakfast then walked a bit around the neighborhood. But before long they had to head back as Aaron had to head over to the Hollywood Bowl to prep for the concert that night. As he was leaving the house he pulled Justin to him and kissed him hard, "I love you."

Justin grinned.

"I love you," he replied and in that moment he knew his choice, his decision back in Pittsburgh at Thanksgiving, had been the right one. He belonged with Aaron. He felt safe and happy with Aaron. He knew where he stood and how much he was loved with Aaron.

The few days leading up to his mother and sister's arrival had been much the same as the days long before Brian had reappeared in Justin's life. He and Aaron were clicking and things had been so _right_ between them. It was as if those awful weeks of angst and emotional turmoil and fighting had never occurred and Justin was once again amazed at the kind of man Aaron was proving to be. Forgiving, and understanding, and he knew he was a fool to have even considered, however briefly, going back to Brian.

So a few minutes later, as Aaron left for work and Jennifer and Molly retreated to the guest room to get showered and dressed for their day, Justin pulled out his cell and without thinking dialed Brian's number. The phone rang, and rang, and when the voicemail picked up Justin sighed softly and disconnected the call. What he wanted to say to Brian couldn't be done over voicemail – Justin was at least going to be man enough to face the unpleasantness of what he wanted to say to Brian, even if Brian had never extended that courtesy to him.

Molly wanted to go Christmas shopping before the concert that night, so Justin took them to The Grove, driving them back home later via a winding detour through Beverly Hills; Molly once again hanging out the car window, phone in hand as she took picture after picture of the mansions and palm trees and people.

The Christmas Spectacular concert was that evening, and Justin and his mother and sister had seats in the Garden section – and Justin held Aaron's steady gaze throughout the entire 90-minute show. The philharmonic played many great Christmas classics, and many contemporary songs, ending with a giant chorus joining them onstage for a beautiful and haunting rendition of Ave Maria. Justin wasn't religious, but the performance of that song that night almost made him declare his born-again status. He was just slightly disappointed that he couldn't take Aaron home and fuck his brains out right after – because with his mom and sister there Justin refused to mess around even a little bit. Not even a blow-job or a hand-job.

The foursome stayed up until after two in the morning, playing various games and having a wonderful time. As Justin drifted off to sleep later, he thought he heard the sound of boxes moving and wrapping shifting and he smiled into his pillow, pulling Aaron's arms tighter to his chest; his mother likely out there playing Santa and for Justin, the entire world was right and perfect and he couldn't have been happier or more content.

* * *

The happiness and contentment lasted another six days before all hell broke loose.

Jennifer and Molly departed Los Angeles, a bit tanner and certainly much happier, on December 28th. Justin and Aaron resumed their regular schedules, going to work (though Aaron was simply going to clean out his locker and get his sheet music for the upcoming season at the Philharmonic – they had three weeks off before the start of the new season, and daily practices)

Then came New Year's Eve. Justin left work early and picked up a huge assortment of sushi from their favorite restaurant, than he stopped by the store for some sparkling white grape juice and box of bakery fresh macaroons – they were Aaron's favorite.

As he was driving home, the evening's food and drink safely stowed in his trunk, Justin's phone rang. Flipping it open without glancing at the caller id he was pleasantly surprised to hear Daphne's laugh ring in his ear.

"Happy New Year!" she yelled with a giggle.

"A little early," Justin remarked back with a laugh of his own.

"Well I'm going out tonight, so I won't be around to call you when the clock strikes midnight here in good old Albuquerque," she said, "only one more week here!"

"Congrats," Justin smiled, pulling up to his place and parking.

"So you have a date tonight?" Justin asked as he climbed out of the car and retrieved his bags from the trunk.

"No, sadly," Daphne sighed, "Just going out with a bunch of nurses. They know how to party down here! I only wish I'd made friends with them all sooner."

Justin laughed as he cradled the phone against his shoulder and hefted the bags of food and drink, along with his portfolio case containing his current projects, in his hands and started for the front door.

"What are you doing? You're panting like a dog in heat," Daphne giggled and Justin wondered if she'd already started indulging in some libations.

"I just got home with dinner," Justin panted, the bags pinching his fingers and the walk up to his front door seeming endlessly long.

"Staying in, then?" she asked and Justin hummed his affirmation.

"Boring," she snickered.

"Fuck off," Justin laughed, having reached the front door and dropping his bags he fumbled for his house key and jammed it in the lock, twisting the knob and kicking the door open as he grasped the bags in his swollen and sore hands.

"No surprise calls or visits from Brian then?" Daphne asked.

"No," Justin said, kicking the door shut behind him. "Besides, even if Brian did show up again, I'd never go meet him. I learned my lesson at Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, yeah," Daphne responded.

Justin shuffled through the living room and into the kitchen, dropping the bags onto the floor and heaving a sigh of relief.

"Well Daph, have a fabulous time tonight," he crooned at her, "but be safe," he added in a more serious tone.

"I will. Promise. You and Aaron have fun, too," she said back and then she was gone.

Justin smiled, closing his phone and setting it on the countertop before he started digging into the various bags, putting the sushi and sparkling white grape juice into the fridge, and setting the macaroons on the counter by his phone.

"What did you mean by that?" Aaron's voice came out of nowhere and Justin jumped, calling out softly and spinning to see Aaron standing in the arched doorway that connected the kitchen to the hallway that led to the two bedrooms and bathroom.

"Shit, you scared me," Justin pressed his palm to his chest and took a few deep breaths.

"What did you mean?"

"What?" Justin balled up the reusable grocery bags and tossed them into the bottom of the pantry where the rest of them were in a heaping mess.

"You said, even if Brian showed up again you'd never go see him. That you learned your lesson at Thanksgiving. What did you mean by that," Aaron's voice was disturbingly calm and even and that scared Justin more than if he'd been screaming and yelling and throwing things.

Shit.

"Uh," Justin stalled, not knowing where to start and suddenly very, very scared.

Aaron's expression was like stone, unmoving and unwavering, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he looked at Justin with something akin to complete and utter disappointment. It was a look Justin had never seen on Aaron's face, at least not directed at him, and it seized his stomach and heart into a vice grip so tight it made him think he might throw up, or pass out, or both.

"Isn't that what I heard you say?" Aaron asked quietly; too quietly.

"Yeah," Justin felt a hot rush of blood creep up his neck to his cheeks, "it is."

"And were you ever going to tell me about this secret rendezvous?" Aaron crossed his arms and furrowed his brow – Justin could see the shock of the news wearing off and the anger settling in. This could prove to be one hell of an argument…

"I….," Justin sighed, "no. I wasn't."

Aaron nodded, an angry smile spreading across his face.

"He tells the truth, at last," he threaded his fingers behind his head and stared at Justin; angry, and hurt, and shocked. Justin could see it all.

"I'm sorry," Justin whispered and Aaron laughed.

"Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for? You just saw him is all, right? It's not like you didn't tell me you met up with him because something happened, right?"

Justin saw what Aaron thought he knew, he saw what Aaron thought had happened; real, true infidelity.

"Oh no. No. No, no, no, Aaron…," Justin shook his head and moved towards Aaron, stopping when the other man held up his hands to him, as if warding him off.

"Nothing happened," Justin said even as the image of the kiss, the feel of Brian's lips on his, ghosted cross his memory.

"Nothing," Aaron nodded, grinning a bit madly, "is that why you look guilty as hell right now?"

Justin sighed. This was all fucked up and wrong and fuck, fuck, fuck!

"He kissed me and God help me, I kissed him back. But that was all, I swear," Justin said softly, watching as Aaron's face crumpled and he turned and punched the wall.

"Jesus! Stop!" Justin moved forward but when Aaron turned and pushed him away, Justin stumbled and fell onto his ass on the hard kitchen floor, shocked and unaware of the pain in his chest was from the fall, or from a breaking heart.

He didn't know what to do. He and Aaron had fought before, lots of times over the course all the years they'd been together, but it had never been anything like this. They'd never been physical with each other – not even a push or a slap.

"After everything that son of a bitch did to you, the way he made you feel, you fucking let him kiss you?"

"It was a mistake!" Justin yelled angrily.

"Oh no," Aaron laughed before his face changed again, "You don't get to be mad at me for this," he growled, his cheeks flushing.

"Aaron -," Justin crawled back to his feet.

"Just stay away from me," Aaron paced the small kitchen, and Justin couldn't stop staring at the hole in the drywall, right next to the refrigerator where the Philharmonic spring schedule was up, next to a picture of Justin and Aaron on the beach, taken just a few days earlier by Molly.

"But I chose you!" Justin yelled in frustration, fisting his hands tightly in his hair. Didn't that count for anything?

"Don't do me any favors," Aaron massaged his hand, bright red and torn skin bleeding over his knuckles.

"Just tell me why?" Aaron asked, "What did you think you could possibly gain from seeing him again? After everything you told me about him, and after what he did to you to make you a fucking mess? Was it worth it?"

Justin moved forward and reached for Aaron's hand, it was starting to swell and Justin, knowing firsthand what an injured hand could do to an artist, was desperate to make sure Aaron was okay. But Aaron just backed away.

"Your hand," Justin said and Aaron shook his head.

"Answer my questions."

Justin sighed. "I went to see Brian on Friday night. To end things, finally. I needed to find out why he did what he did all those years ago so I could put him and all that crap behind me and be with you, wholly."

"And Brian, a master at the art of manipulation, said a lot of things and made me confused, made me doubt. But when he kissed me I knew," Justin breathed deeply, "I knew I wanted to be with you."

It was mostly true. Justin did want Aaron – mentally, in his head. Aaron was the safe choice, the right choice, the choice that would make Justin happy... But fuck if his body hadn't reacted to Brian's touch. Fuck if he hadn't nearly lost his mind with the draw of Brian, the allure of him…

"Gee you really know how to make a man feel wanted."

"Will you let me get you some ice for your hand?" Justin said, unable to stand watching him gently press at the joints and hoping he hadn't injured it too seriously. He was a fucking violinist – he couldn't have an injury or he'd lose his spot in the philharmonic.

Aaron shrugged, his expression turned sullen and dark.

Justin crossed the kitchen and pulling the towel off the handle of the stove he set it on the counter before opening the freezer and grabbing two handfuls of ice from the bin beneath the ice maker. Drawing the towel closed Justin held out the bundle of ice and held Aaron's cool stare before Aaron finally took the towel and pressed it to his hand.

"You didn't break anything, did you?" Justin asked and Aaron scowled at him before curtly shaking his head no.

"I am so sorry. You have no idea how sorry," Justin said again, images of a New Year's Eve spent half naked, eating sushi, drinking sparkling white grape juice and watching bad movies now gone from his head. There would be no good times for them this night, of that Justin was certain.

Aaron sighed, long and deep before leaning against the wall.

"I know you're sorry. I do. But knowing this, knowing _he_ was the reason you were so weird those weeks right after we got back from Boston…well, it doesn't give me much confidence that you are as much over him as you seem to think you are," Aaron said.

"I thought I had done something wrong and the whole time you were feeling…what? Guilt? Lust? You were maybe regretting just a little bit that you had to leave him behind and come back here with me?"

"No -," Justin started to offer more denials but Aaron's sad smile stopped him.

"Me thinks doth protest too much," He said, quite earnestly and Justin couldn't think of a single thing to say to that to make the situation any better.

He had spent too much time protesting his feelings and desires for Brian and maybe Aaron was finally growing wise. But the thought of losing him was terrifying to Justin, but why he wasn't sure. Yes, he loved him and didn't want to lose him but more than that Aaron had been his tether, his safe place, his refuge. If Aaron left where would that leave Justin?

"I'm going to go out for a bit," Aaron set the towel, now dripping with melted ice, on the counter and with one last look at Justin he left the kitchen.

Justin stood, frozen in place until he heard the front door open, then close.

"Fuck," he murmured his eyes stinging with tears and his heart aching – though he was at a loss to describe what emotions were eliciting either reaction; was it regret for his actions? Or regret Aaron found out? Or now that it was known did he regret not staying with Brian?

He had no clue.

Daphne wasn't answering though they'd just spoken not even thirty minutes earlier. Justin figured she was already out with her coworkers and trying to have a good time. He tried Lindsay next, but when she didn't answer he was immensely relieved because he wasn't sure she was entirely objective and he would feel like a fool confessing to her his problems.

Justin paced the entirety of his place, phone in hand, for a good hour before deciding to call his mother. It was a three-hour time difference, and he was pretty sure she was probably headed to some swanky party downtown, but maybe she would still be home and maybe she could offer some of her sage advice? Justin needed someone, anyone to talk to.

"Justin, honey, I'm headed out the door, can we talk tomorrow?" Jennifer said after she'd answered the phone.

"I'm sorry. I'm just…," Justin sighed, "He hurt his hand and I don't know what to do."

"Who hurt…what? Justin is everything okay?"

"Aaron and I had a fight, a bad one," Justin closed his eyes and sighed, "he punched the wall and hurt his hand."

"Oh my God. Honey, are you okay?" his mother's distracted tone replaced by one that was very obviously worried.

"This is all Brian's fault!" Justin exploded, feeling anger, and loss, and an extreme sense of guilt, but it was all jumbled up and he couldn't figure out which emotion went to which person and which situation. Was he angry at Brian and guilty for lying to Aaron? Was he angry at himself and feeling the loss of Brian? Was he angry at Aaron for calling him out on his lies and guilty because he wanted Brian still? It was all true, to a degree, and Justin just wanted clarity.

"Tell me what to do, mom," he moaned and through the phone he heard his mother sigh.

"I can't tell you what to do, honey. You stopped listening to me long ago, and even if I wanted to tell you what to do I never would. This is your life, you have to figure it out on your own."

She was right, and Justin knew that, but it didn't stop him from wanting her, or someone, to tell him what he should do.

"I'm sure if I called Brian he'd tell me what to do," Justin laughed bitterly.

"What does that mean? Is that why you and Aaron were arguing? Because of Brian?"

"I saw him. In Pittsburgh. Over Thanksgiving. And Aaron just found. It was pretty bad, mom."

"Justin…," she groaned and Justin could imagine her face, a mixture of disappointment and motherly scorn coloring her features.

"I know. But….fuck! He ruined everything in my life that was good before, and now he's back and ruining my relationship with Aaron too," Justin grumbled.

"Brian didn't do that, honey. You did." His mother's voice was oddly cool and Justin frowned.

"You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am on your side, but I also think you're a little blind to all the truths that have come and gone with Brian in your life."

"What does that mean? Truths? And are you defending him and what he did? You were just here, mom. You saw me and Aaron, you have to know he's the best thing in my life, and he loves me and takes care of me."

"Yes, but Jus-,"

"Fuck, he's probably thinking about leaving me! And why not after what I withheld from him. Shit. I know I'd be pissed if I found out he had met in secret, and kissed, his ex."

"You kissed Brian? Justin, what's going on with you?"

"Not that I don't deserve it for my lies," Justin continued rambling, not really hearing his mother, "but Brian…God! He's such a manipulator! Nothing that Brian has ever done for me is worth losing Aaron over. Nothing. Brian has never done a damn thing for me and I can't let him take Aaron from me now, too."

"Oh honey. I love Aaron and I know he loves you and I think he probably saved your life, but do you love him? So far all you've been saying is how much Aaron loves you. And as important as it is that you're with someone who loves you, I hope you know it's just as important that you love him back. Now I know Brian wasn't perfect, but I also know you _did_ love him and, well, he did a hell of a lot for you that doesn't leave me with any doubts he loved you, even if he never said it."

Justin scoffed. _If only she knew_, he thought.

"Look, not that I want or think it'd be good for you to be with Brian again, but you seem to be forgetting some of the significant and quite amazing things he did for you, like paying for your school – which you subsequently dropped out of. And he singlehandedly took down an evil politician, with your help, of course, but he practically went bankrupt because of the whole thing and it was because of your influence, I'm certain of it. Even when he showed up at your prom after he initially said no. And he defended you to your father, and it's because of him that we have Debbie in our lives."

Justin scowled in silence. It was easier to be mad at Brian when he wasn't reminded of the things he'd done.

"And I probably shouldn't tell you this, but he was there every night while you were in the hospital, after the bashing. Every single night he was there watching over you. That's what all the night nurses would tell me. It infuriated me because I just wanted him to visit so you could focus on getting better for yourself and not for him – but I guess I was also relieved that at least he cared enough to check in, even if he never let you know."

"So just remember that, when you try and lay all the blame on him for your current problems. Because while he may not have always shown it in the way you might have wanted or expected he did care. I dare say he loved you."

Yeah, Brian loved him, he'd told him as much at Thanksgiving. But his mother didn't need to hear any of that. What Justin was wrapped up in was the revelation that Brian had visited him in the hospital. He hadn't really realized it until that moment, but that single action, the knowledge of that one thing suddenly made all the rest seem not so bad. It had bothered Justin for years that Brian had ignored him in the hospital, and now he finds out he'd been there all along? The relief of that knowledge was unexpected, and welcome.

"Now I'm late, so I'm going to go. I suggest you figure out how to make things up to your fiancé or honey, you may lose him after all. Though, if that's what you really want, I support you," Jennifer said serenely, "and I love you."

"I love you too, mom," Justin sighed, no less confused than he'd been before he'd talked to her.

Aaron didn't come home for another three hours. Justin was climbing the walls by then, ready to call the police and report him missing when he waltzed in the door, his face still set in a stony scowl.

"Not tonight," was all he said as he passed by Justin.

He slept in the guest room that night, leaving Justin alone in their bedroom.

Happy fucking New Year.

* * *

Justin was up with the sun the following day, and he sat in the kitchen nerves on edge as an entire pot of coffee coursed through his veins. He was sketching, absently, as he waited for Aaron to come out so they could try and talk again. He could only hope that he was a little less angry and more willing to listen. Though Justin did wonder if he was worth listening too. He had fucked up royally, again, and he needed forgiven.

Even still, with the hell his lies had made his life, he still had echoes of feelings and emotions of Brian coursing through him. Learning about the hospital visits had sent Justin into a tailspin of sorts, and it was all he could do to keep his focus on making things right with Aaron – because no matter what good things Brian might have done all those years ago, it didn't negate the hell he'd put Justin through later. And he had to keep reminding himself of that.

Justin heard the door to the guest room open and he promptly dropped his pencil and closed his sketch book, turning in his chair towards the hall and preparing for another heavy discussion, but willing to do what it took to make things right again.

Aaron appeared moments later, dressed in sweats and his hair wildly messy; his eyes though, they were puffy and red and it didn't look like he slept any more than Justin had.

"Hey," Justin said cautiously, Aaron shooting him a blank look before going to the coffee pot.

"I'll make more," Justin stood as Aaron pulled out the pot and poured the dregs, maybe half a cup, into a mug.

"Do what you want," Aaron sighed, passing by Justin without looking at him and sitting at the table.

Justin busied himself with making more coffee, glad in a way for something to do. He occasionally would glance at Aaron, but the other man was staring out the window, turned away from Justin and ignoring him.

It seemed forever before the coffee was ready, and when it was finally, Justin carried the pot over to the table and filled Aaron's mug, then his own, though he really didn't need any more caffeine.

"Thanks," Aaron murmured and Justin breathed a little easier.

Maybe things would be okay?

"Can we talk now?" Justin asked, setting the coffee pot on top of his sketch pad and sitting down.

Aaron shrugged and looked at Justin with such profound sadness in his expression that Justin thought he might break apart at the slightest little touch.

"Talk," he said finally.

"I'm sorry," Justin emphatically stated, "I'm so sorry. I should have told you I saw Brian after Thanksgiving, and I should have told you that he kissed me. But I was scared. And I know that's not an excuse but I didn't want to hurt you and I didn't think it would ever matter. I don't plan to see him again, and -,"

"Stop," Aaron sighed, cutting Justin off, "I know. And I get it. I really do. And I'm not mad because you saw him, or even because he kissed you. I'm angry because you didn't tell me. And because it's obvious you're still struggling with feelings for him. Which I don't get, but whatever, that's your stuff to work through. I just want to help. But when you don't talk to me I can 't help and then we end up here."

Justin stared at Aaron with a slightly slack jaw; was it really that easy? Could Aaron really be that forgiving? Justin, with only Brian and Ethan as his past experience to judge relationships against, couldn't believe it. It seemed too easy but then again, Aaron was unlike anyone else Justin knew – which was one of the reasons he loved him.

"Aaron-,"

"No. Stop. Just…just give me time Justin," Aaron stood and with his coffee mug in hand, slowly retreated back to the guest room.

"Okay," Justin whispered to the empty room before placing the coffee pot back into its slot and dumping the contents of his mug down the sink.

When Aaron didn't reemerge from the guest room after an hour, Justin took his wallet and keys and took a walk, detouring to the local market for some groceries, and while he spent some time staring at the cooler of beer and wine.

He may have had to debate with himself, and remind himself how the alcohol had never worked at making things better before, but he ultimately decided not to attempt that method of pain management again. What he did do, on the walk back home, was call Brian once more – more determined than ever to end things, finally. But once again Brian didn't answer and once again, Justin hung up without leaving a message.

Later that night, after Aaron and Justin silently and awkwardly ate the sushi that had been intended for New Year's Eve, Justin cleaned up the kitchen and upon picking up his sketchbook, he flipped to the page he'd been doodling that morning.

There, staring up at him from the page, was Brian.

With a heavy sigh, Justin ripped the page from the book and tore it into shreds.

He was sick and tired of Brian haunting him, and he was determined that in 2013, he'd finally put Brian and all that shit behind him for good.

* * *

As January progressed things between Aaron and Justin slowly improved. It was strained, and it was hard, but slowly Aaron thawed and began to talk to Justin again. Then, the last week of the month Aaron returned to their bed, and they had what Justin would say was the best make-up sex he'd ever had in his life. After that, though there were brief moments when Justin would catch Aaron looking at him strangely, things were pretty much as they'd been before. And Justin felt safe again; secure.

As February started and the California Supreme Court deliberated on the constitutionality of Proposition 8, Justin and Aaron solidified their relationship further by staying glued to the news coverage. They'd spend their evenings watching the various 24-hour news outlets, hoping for some new tidbit that would indicate which way the court might be leaning.

Finally the court came to a decision, and the day they overturned Prop 8, Aaron and Justin went out to dinner and celebrated. They both knew it was just one small step, but it was a successful small step. Later, when Aaron brought up the idea of maybe tentatively setting a date for a wedding ceremony, Justin knew things between them were getting better again.

The California Supreme Court ruling was headed for appeals, and that was expected, but it didn't stop people from calling Justin over the course of the following days, and when Jennifer called again Justin was relieved to be able to tell her that things were getting better between he and Aaron. She'd given him space since his call on New Year's Day, and though he'd kept her updated via text that at least they hadn't broken up, being able to tell her things were back to normal and they were talking about setting a date felt really, really good.

Then, his mother brought up Brian again, and Justin faltered. He'd managed, successfully, to avoid almost all thoughts of Brian for most of the month, and he was angry and annoyed that his mother brought him up, again.

"So Debbie told me Brian has been asking after you," Jennifer said.

"Mother," Justin said through gritted teeth. "I don't want to rehash this. If Brian has unresolved issues that's his problem. I'm moving on."

"Are you," she said.

"I'm just passing the information along," she added. "He's been talking to Lindsay quite a bit, and she told Deb. And Deb thought you might like to know. For whatever reason."

"Fine. Thank you for passing on the message, not stop talking about me and Brian with them, please!"

The very next day at work, Justin was called into Ross's office and presented with a new job. It would seem their small little studio had been contracted to do a few television spots for an art supply company, specifically, a brand of markers. The client had requested Justin specifically, and when he learned the ad agency hiring out the work was Kinnetik, he knew exactly what Brian was trying to do; and while he was thankful for the work and excited to be drawing more than concept art that may or may not ever be used, he wasn't about to let Brian off the hook simply because he was doing "nice things" for him.

So that evening, on his way home from work he dialed Brian's phone again, but when Brian actually answered Justin panicked and hung up. He apparently wasn't as ready as he thought he might be to tell him to fuck off and to let him go.

And even though he and Aaron had just made it through a rough patch to do with Brian, and lies, Justin didn't tell Aaron the real reason behind the new job assignment. He knew it was wrong, but he also knew it wasn't worth the ensuing argument. And Justin really wanted to do the work – it's wasn't like he'd ever have to see Brian, so what harm was in it?

* * *

Justin worked on the television commercials through the month, and in early March he got word back that the clients loved what he'd done, and the ads were scheduled to start airing later in the month. Aaron took Justin out to celebrate, and they spent a long, exhausting night in bed together.

Justin worked on finishing the ads for the rest of the month, really excited to see his work on television, and excited to think that maybe this would be the first step in getting him out of the movie business, or at least out of the "concept art" movie business. He had always liked his job, and had felt mostly fulfilled by his work, but he was rarely hired by film productions to work on the real art direction and so many times his concepts ended up skewed and unrecognizable, altered by other artists and usually in ways that Justin hated. It was hard, doing all that work for so little reward later on.

Maybe these ads would give him a leg up in getting into animation, something he'd been interested in since long before he'd ever met Brian Kinney.

The date for the "premier" of the first ad on television was actually Justin's birthday; and the company had bought ad time during daytime television as well as a few primetime spots. But the ones that would air during the day would be the first and as such, Justin had to be at work for them. His entire office was thrilled, and they planned a little party to celebrate the achievement. Justin was grateful even though he had wanted to take his birthday off – one only turns 30 once after all – but he couldn't, so he and Aaron planned a night out at the Griffith Observatory, in lieu of taking a drive up the coast like Aaron had wanted to do. Instead, they shuttled that plan for a weekend later in the month.

It was just after the ad had aired, after the champagne (and sparkling cider for him) had been poured that three delivery men walked in with giant arrangements of roses; one red, one white, and one a mix of pink and a soft but rich lavender color. They were gorgeous, and when the delivery man in the lead position announced they were for Justin, his first thought was that Aaron had outdone himself again.

But a few minutes later, the vases and arrangements taking up the entirety of the surface of Justin's workspace, when he opened the card his heart jumped into his throat. These were not from Aaron. These flowers were from Brian.

_Happy 30__th__ Birthday, Sunshine.  
Your talent truly knows no bounds and I foresee great and wonderful things for you.  
I am happy to say I have known you at all, and grateful to have been a part of your life for even a moment. I shall endeavor to always see that you achieve your dreams, and I think your work on this ad is only the first step for you finally achieving that dream you spoke of the night Gus was born. You are a true artist and dreamer and I want nothing but happiness and success for you, regardless of where it comes from and who gives it to you. So seek out your happiness, and live out your dreams. Thank you for letting me be just a small part of your life, because no matter what has happened in our past, your presence in my life has made me a better man; a better father; a better friend. It may have taken me a long time to realize it, but I owe everything I am and everything I have to you.  
Love, Brian_

It was unexpected, to say the least.

It took him three days to bring the arrangements home, one at a time, and though Aaron was less than thrilled that Brian had sent such extravagant flowers to Justin, he allowed them to stay in the house. Justin was surprised – and even more so when Aaron accepted when Justin told him they were simply a friendly birthday gift.

Aaron had argued they may have been a gift, but the gift meant much more than friendship. Still – he didn't press the issue when Justin repeated it didn't mean anything, and the flowers stayed, brightening up the living room and filling their home with sweet, perfumed scent that, no matter how much Justin fought it, only drummed up images of Brian.

Justin was sure Brian was trying to goad him into calling. Why else send such an over-the-top gift? He had to have realized by now that the same phone number kept calling, and maybe he had put it together that Justin was still struggling with his feelings, regardless of what he'd said to Brian in Pittsburgh. Yes, it was certainly a fact Brian had come to that conclusion, what with what his mother had told him about Brian asking after him…

But what should he do?

It was three days later, and Justin was literally moments from picking up the phone to call Brian and put an end to any of his romantic notions, when things took another turn for the worse.

Aaron came home from work, more irritable than usual. Justin had been sitting in the living room, the local news on the television while he sketched. He wasn't really watching, but the sound was soothing in an odd way.

Aaron came in, tossed the mail on the coffee table next to where Justin's bare feet were crossed on top of it, and promptly grabbed two of the three vases of roses and without a word dumped them into the garbage, stamping them down with his feet and crushing the delicate flowers.

"Hey!" Justin quickly set his sketch pad on the table and jumped to his feet, grabbing the third vase, the red roses, and pulling it out of Aaron's grasp just as he came back into the room.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Justin asked, hugging the flowers to his abdomen and feeling the soft tickle of the petals against his chin as he spoke.

"I can't stand looking at these anymore," Aaron answered, crossing his arms. "I can't pretend it's okay anymore. It's wrong for a man to send another man flowers like this; especially when they're no longer involved."

"But you said it was fine. More than once," Justin replied, and Aaron shrugged.

"I lied."

"Why?"

"Why not? I was trying to make you happy, but damnit Justin, I can't have flowers from him greeting me each day when I come home. I just can't," Aaron shrugged.

"I'll take them back to work then," Justin countered, not liking this new habit they seemed to have of lying to one another. Justin was already keeping secret the truth behind the animation job, and now Aaron was admitting to lying about being accepting of the flowers.

"Yeah," Aaron shook his head with a sigh, "sure. Whatever."

He moved through the living room then, keys in hand.

"Where are you going?" Justin called after him.

"I just need to take a walk. I'll be back in an hour or so," he said before disappearing out the door.

Justin set the flowers on the kitchen table, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge on his way back to the living room. He was so tired of the fighting, but he had no clue how to make things right again. It seemed as if no matter what decision Justin made, it was the wrong one.

With a sigh, Justin thumbed through the mail and pulled out two envelopes addressed to him; one from his aunt in Maine, and the other from Lindsay. Tossing aside the one from his aunt, Justin tore open the one from Lindsay and grinned widely at the cartoon images that wished him a happy birthday.

It was a belated birthday card, and while Justin could have cared less that it was late Lindsay still spent the first few sentences of her note apologizing for that fact. She then told him how Gus was doing, that he was now as tall as her and trying out all the different sports the school he went to offered. Justin had to grin as he imagined Brian's chagrin that his kid might be a jock. As he read on though, his smile slipped from his face and he felt his chest tighten quite unpleasantly.

Forty-five minutes later, when Aaron came back through the door, Justin stood from the sofa where he'd been stewing and waving the card in anger, Justin did something he'd never done before, and he hit Aaron square in the chin.

"What the fuck was that for?" Aaron cried, clutching his jaw while Justin shook out his stinging hand. He'd only ever punched one other person before, and that was when he and Brian had playfully (sort of playfully) fought during Justin's days with the Pink Posse.

"How did you do it? Or better yet, why?" Justin yelled, still clutching Lindsay's card and waving it in Aaron's face.

"Do what?" Aaron yelled back while he opened and closed his jaw, his eyes wide with shock.

"How did you manage to prevent me from knowing Lindsay was here? In Los Angeles; with Gus," Justin said, no longer yelling but feeling his rage start to burn and boil once again.

Aaron paused and as his expression transitioned from shock, to guilt, to anger, Justin felt some of his own anger melt away. He felt some of his rage dissolve as he realized he really didn't know Aaron at all. Because the Aaron he knew would never do something like this.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, and though Justin could hear the guilt in his voice he was still trying to deny any wrong-doing.

Justin laughed and shook his head, opening the card and reading the words Lindsay had written, "I'm sorry we missed you when we were in Los Angeles in January. I'm sure you were probably really busy since you didn't call and could only send me a text with your regrets. I can't help but say it would have been so good to see you, and to get a tour of LA from a knowledgeable source. And I really wanted you to see Gus. He's so different from the little boy you last saw. He enjoyed being in LA, since he was too young to remember the last time. Well, maybe next time I'm in town you'll be around, and I'll be sure to give you more notice next time."

"So I ask you again," Justin closed the card and stared at Aaron, feeling no love for him at the moment, "why would you do this?"

Aaron stared at Justin, and there was no love in his expression either. Justin was heartbroken to think how far they'd fallen, and he sincerely wondered if there was any hope left for them.

"I guess you know how it feels now," he said, shoving past Justin to enter the kitchen. He pulled a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer and pressed it to his chin.

"What? Are you seriously telling me this is revenge? And in what world is this even remotely the same? Keeping me from seeing an old friend and mentor is _not_ the same as not telling you I saw Brian for one night in a city I don't live in and probably will never go back to! And this has nothing to do with Brian! Fuck!"

"It has everything to do with Brian!" Aaron yelled.

"She's his friend, she has his son," Aaron added, "this is _all_ about Brian. It will always be about him."

"She may be his friend, and the mother of his son, but she's also my friend, and I would have wanted to see her. To see Gus!"

"I didn't want to see you spiral back down to that place where I found you," Aaron added, a little sullenly.

"That's really great," Justin rolls his eyes, "I'm glad to hear you think so highly of me!"

"I was protecting you from him!"Aaron growled.

"How many times do I have to say it, this has nothing to do with him! This is Lindsay, not Brian. You don't get to decide if I see her or not!" Justin yelled back, anger and rage boiling inside once again.

"You don't control me, and if you think you do well then we have much bigger problems," Justin panted, his face hot and his hands balled in fists hanging at his side.

Justin had never known Aaron to be like this and he wondered if he should be worried; was this a sign of things to come?

"Babe, will you calm down?" Aaron suddenly looked a little scared and Justin felt vindication in his feelings.

"I'll say it again so you're sure to hear me, you don't get to decide who my friends are, or whether I see them or not. Hell, you don't get to decide if I see Brian again for that matter," Justin repeated, "and if you can't trust me than I don't know what the hell we're even doing anymore."

"I do trust you," Aaron said, his face still betraying fear, "I don't trust _him_. I guess I transferred that distrust to Lindsay. I'm sorry. I am."

"Lindsay and Gus are very important to me. Very important. Hell, I haven't even seen that kid since he was four years old and I would have loved to have seen him. Jesus, Aaron! I'm so fucking pissed right now!"

"I'm sorry -," Aaron repeated.

"Yeah, you said that already," Justin spat at him turning to leave.

"Where are you going?" Aaron sounded worried and Justin felt bolstered by that fear.

"Well now it's my turn to go for a walk," Justin smiled with sarcastic sweetness, "is that okay with you?"

Without waiting for an answer Justin left, slamming the front door behind him.

Everything was fucked. Everything! And Justin was really scared that things would never be okay again, and he couldn't help but blame Brian. After all, it had all started that night in Boston…but was that really fair? Justin had been holding on so tightly to the lingering feelings he had for Brian. He had let him kiss him in Pittsburgh, and he had kissed him back. So how could it all be Brian's fault? No…it was Justin's fault. He'd been the one to lie, and give Aaron reason to doubt him, and now Aaron was acting out of character while Justin was lying even still – withholding the truth behind the animation work, and the truth behind the flowers.

What he couldn't understand was why? Why was he repeating these behaviors, and why was he tempting fate and his happiness with Aaron?

But the bigger question that began to plague Justin that night was if he really wanted to be with Aaron at all. And, more importantly, did he really want to marry him…

Brian's behavior since Thanksgiving had been nothing but gracious and giving, if not a bit presumptuous, but the side of Aaron Justin had been faced with was only making him uglier and less desirable with each passing moment and hell if Justin had any clue what to do next.


	11. Lay Here

"_lay here it's safe here I'll let you be broken open  
hide here confide here so we can be broken open"_

**March/April 2013  
**Justin****

The day after the "big fight", Justin came home from work to find a note propped up on the kitchen table.

_I think I need to stay elsewhere, at least for a little while,_ Justin read the words of the note, scribbled in Aaron's messy handwriting. _I don't know what's going to happen between us but it's apparent to me that you have some serious thinking to do, about who you want to spend your life with, and you need to do it on your own. If there's any hope left for us you need to figure your shit out._

There was no "I love you", and the note was unsigned. He didn't say where he was going, and Justin was honestly still too angry to even care.

It felt like a dream, or a nightmare – the events of the previous evening. Justin could hardly recall most of what he'd said or what he'd done. He did know he'd gone too far – hell, his knuckles were still achy and sore from the punch – and while it made him nervous to read Aaron's words, a part of him was also relieved. Justin hadn't wanted to come home and find Aaron sitting at the table and staring at him, expecting some sort of apology or explanation. Justin had no explanation and while maybe he did owe Aaron an apology – he also expected one in return for what Aaron had done in keeping Justin from seeing Lindsay and Gus.

No – for the moment it was best for Aaron to be out of sight, at least for a little while.

Justin crumpled the note and threw it in the trash before making himself dinner and settling in to watch a movie on Netflix.

* * *

A few days later it all started to sink in – Aaron's leaving, Justin's conflicted feelings about Brian, the fights and the pushing and the hitting. He fell apart one night, throwing plates and glasses in anger – unable to expel the emotions any other way. He then spent the next hour sweeping up tiny shards of glass and big chunks of stone wear.

He and Aaron had still not talked. They hadn't even texted each other. Justin wasn't even sure where Aaron was staying. It was odd, and discomforting, and Justin found himself thinking a lot about Aaron and their relationship. He thought a lot about if he missed the other man, and when he thought he did miss him he wondered, why? Mostly, though, Justin realized he was pretty much okay with Aaron's absence. He suddenly felt more himself – more relaxed, more free – and that scared him too, because if he felt that way with Aaron gone, how much of himself had he been holding back while being _with_ Aaron? Had he really been himself for all the years he'd been with the other man? And, more importantly, did Justin want to go back to feeling like he was being suppressed, restricted, held back from living and feeling and experiencing?

He was incredibly confused, because he also wasn't sure he wanted to go forward, to move on, alone.

Aaron had been in his life and a big part of his life for so long – he could hardly imagine moving on without him. But maybe it was better if he was gone – maybe it was better if they both called this what it was and went their separate ways. They'd been arguing and bickering for months, and though Justin knew it was mostly his fault for pulling back from Aaron; for keeping his feelings for Brian alive in his heart all this time later and refusing to talk to Aaron about it, the fact was they hadn't been happy since Christmas – not really. Justin could look back and see that the illusion of happiness had been there, that he'd been content to ignore much of the nagging in his heart that he simply no longer found Aaron to be enough – he had just been unwilling to do anything about it until now. Finding out about his deception with regards to Lindsay and Gus had been the last straw. And he couldn't be bothered to try and seek Aaron out; to try and get him to come home.

Contrary to what Aaron would probably think of such a claim – it really had nothing to do with Brian. Not entirely, anyway. Justin wasn't suddenly realizing these things out of the blue – but he was suddenly recognizing the symptoms, the signs of a bigger problem. He was beginning to understand that a part of him had always known he and Aaron wouldn't last; because he had never been _in love_ with Aaron.

He got that now more than ever. And it was frightening to think about how easily he had let himself be taken care of by him.

Justin had loved Aaron, and he still did love him, he just didn't love him romantically. Thoughts of him didn't send his heart racing or make his palms sweat or give him butterflies in his stomach. Aaron didn't consume him, take over his every waking thought. In fact, Justin was hard pressed to recall the last time he thought of Aaron at all, outside of when they were there with each other.

Aaron had saved him, had helped him heal after Brian's ruthless behavior had broken him, and he'd made Justin feel safe and taken care of – but that wasn't enough anymore. Seeing Brian again had awoken something inside Justin – a desire for more than just safety and security. It had awoken a need for passion and lust and reckless abandon. Maybe Justin would find that again with Brian, or maybe not. He wasn't sure going back down that road was a good choice, either. Or maybe Justin would find it with someone new. The point was, he wanted to find it, to reclaim it, to get it back and he was absolutely certain Aaron was not where or how he would accomplish that.

* * *

Realizing his future happiness wasn't going to be with the man he'd spent the last four years with, Justin felt his emotional roller-coaster ride of the last couple days start to even out, and a calm came over him. Now that he knew what he wanted, he could begin the process of starting over anew. He was a new man, with a new outlook on life, and it was exciting, and exhilarating!

A little over a week after his birthday and the madness that had followed, Justin called Lindsay to thank her properly for the card. He apologized profusely for missing her visit, swearing over and over again that he never would have blown her off like she thought he had. And when he recounted the story to her – that Aaron had intercepted her call when Justin had forgotten his cell phone at home one day, deleting her voicemail and pretending to be Justin and sending that text in reply – she was appropriately angry on Justin's behalf and they commiserated for a bit about the evils of jealous partners – Justin even learned a few new things about her relationship with Melanie that made his head spin.

But then, when Lindsay absently mentioned how Brian had helped get Molly into her seminar at school, it was Justin's turn to be surprised. How had Brian known about it for one, and how had he done it for two? Lindsay didn't know the answer to either, but was surprised neither Molly nor his mother had mentioned it. Justin made a note to himself to ask them, next time they talked.

But learning of this gesture, and adding it to the list of things Brian had done recently – the animation job, the flowers and quite touching birthday note accompanying them – Justin was suddenly at a loss to say he understood Brian even a little bit. He had always known Brian did things for the people he loved, and usually it was without pomp and circumstance – usually it was without the recipient knowing. It only proved what he'd told Justin in Pittsburgh; that he loved him. And Justin had believed him, kind of, in that moment, but now he was forced to face the fact that if Brian no longer cared he wouldn't have bothered to do any of the things he'd done. Because undoubtedly he could have found an animation studio in New York to do the job Justin did, and for less money, and he certainly never would have done whatever it was he had to do to get Molly into her seminar. Not if it didn't directly benefit him – but even then it was doubtful Brian would do something like that for Justin's sister, if he hadn't been truthful about the way he felt for Justin.

All these thoughts rushed through Justin's head in the space of 30 seconds and then it was as if the flood-gates had opened and Justin started talking, emptying himself out to Lindsay and unwilling, and unable, to stop the flow of the words. He told her about the fight he had with Aaron, about Aaron leaving, and about his revelation that he thought he'd only been playing at being happy and he hadn't really loved Aaron – not like he'd loved (_and still did?_) Brian.

Lindsay was happy to lend an ear, and she didn't try to give Justin advice or tell him what to do, she just listened, which was refreshing and therapeutic and gave Justin a clarity he hadn't known he'd been missing. All the time he'd spent obsessing over Daphne's advice, or his mother's words of wisdom, and in the end it was just having an ear to listen to him that allowed him to realize he probably already knew what he wanted. Listening to himself relay the events of the last few months, and hearing himself try to rationalize behaviors and motivations only made it clearer to him not only what he wanted, but what he needed, and it wasn't a new or a different lover.

What he needed was to be alone.

* * *

March ended, and April began, and Aaron and Justin still didn't talk or text once.

Justin spent his days focusing on work, and relishing his time alone and the silence around him. He'd spent his whole life, from the time he was 17 years old to the present either in a relationship, or obsessing over a relationship. First he was with Brian, than Ethan, than Brian again, than California where he spent five years in a useless, pathetic funk thinking _only_ about Brian before Aaron finally came along.

He was, for the first time since high school, single and concurrently not messed up in the head about it. He was feeling good, and excited, and even as his boss gave him new projects to work on he spent his evenings checking the trades and the internet for animation work announcements, and calling old contacts to see if he could get any meetings with any of the big studios – he was ready to leave the world of concept art and art design and move into animation permanently.

He didn't miss Aaron, and to be honest he hardly thought of him. The ring on his finger had lost most of its meaning and was simply an accessory to him now. So he was surprised when, mid-month, he got home from work to find Aaron there, packing a bag and clearing out some of his stuff. Justin had almost forgotten Aaron had even lived with him, and he immediately felt guilty and ashamed for being so cavalier about the situation when none of it had been resolved yet; or even close to resolved.

"Are you leaving for good?" Justin asked. He wasn't too concerned if the answer was yes.

"Not yet. Not unless you tell me too," Aaron said. "I just wanted to get a few more things."

Justin nodded. As much as he wanted to be alone, and free, he also wasn't quite ready to tell Aaron it was over. Not just yet. Why he was still hanging on he couldn't be sure, but something in him wasn't ready to let the other man go. He knew it was unfair, and he knew it gave Aaron a sense of hope, but Justin needed a bit more time to percolate on the things he wanted and needed to say to Aaron before they split for good – and he just wasn't ready yet.

"I'm sorry for everything," Justin said, taking advantage of the moment to give the apology he knew he owed Aaron, all the while watching him stuff clothes into a duffel bag that looked eerily like the one Justin had used for years, back when he was bouncing around from his parent's, to Brian's, to Deb's, to Daphne's, and so on...

"I'm sorry, too," Aaron replied.

"I think we both need time to think about things. I'm tired of fighting with you and I don't want to keep fighting with you. So I hope you figure out what you want. And when you do, call me," Aaron added, zipping up his bag. As he moved to leave the bedroom he stopped and pressed a light kiss to Justin's cheek.

"I love you, and I'll wait for you if that's what it takes, but please make sure I'm what you really want. I don't want to be the man you settle for," his whispered plea tickled the tiny hairs on Justin's cheek and he shivered, nodding his assent as he heard Aaron move back down the hall and quietly close the front door.

What the fuck _did_ he want? That seemed to be the million dollar question. He thought he knew what he needed – to be alone and to figure his shit out – but how to put that into words that wouldn't devastate the other man was another question altogether. How could Justin explain it in a way that made any sense? He knew he loved Aaron – as a friend – and maybe that should be enough to live a happy life? Maybe it was safer to be in a loving relationship like that, rather than trying to recreate what he'd had with Brian – which, quite truthfully, had been damaging and devastating. Justin was now facing the game of second-guessing all his previous declarations to choose himself.

A few days later and after a long weekend of thinking things over and making himself dizzy with what-if's and possibilities and seemingly never-ending options, Justin was still as confused as ever. He was trying so damn hard to figure things out but he couldn't seem to make any headway; one minute he was willing to trash everything and seek out Brian to try again, but then the guilt of leaving Aaron would make him pause; the next minute he was deciding to stay in LA and make things work with Aaron, forgoing any further contact or association with Brian, but then the pain of cutting those ties would overwhelm him and he would change his mind again.

He had gone from fighting for himself to being unwilling to concede failure for either of the men in his life, and it was unfair to them both, and it was unfair to Justin – he was angry, and not sleeping well, and generally miserable and taking it out on everyone around him.

Then one morning later that week, Ross stopped by with a perturbed look on his face. Justin had been staring at the same rough sketch he'd been working on for the last week, unhappy with every aspect of it and about to throw it away and start again (for the sixth time) when Ross appeared.

"Justin," Ross perched on the corner of Justin's desk and crossed his arms, examining him with a curious expression.

"I can't help but notice you've been a bit…well…moody as of late," Ross cocked his head slightly and Justin sighed.

"I'm sorry. I've just got some personal stuff I'm trying to work through. I apologize for bringing it to work with me, it won't happen again."

"I get it," Ross nodded, "and you're right. You shouldn't bring it to work with you. Everyone is on edge, afraid to ask you anything. So I have a proposition for you. It might help with your…," Ross lifted his hand and waved it in the air, "…personal stuff, as you say."

"Okay," Justin replied slowly, feeling a bit nervous at Ross's tone. He really hoped he wasn't being fired, or laid off, or put on forced leave. The last thing Justin needed was more time alone with his thoughts!

"I want you go to T.F.F. and back up Don."

"Uh, okay?" This was not what he had been expecting at all, and Justin wasn't sure how he could do anything to back up Don since they didn't even work directly with each other – Don was in finance and contracts, Justin was an artist.

"It's just he's having a rough time – going through a divorce – and I think he's a bit distracted. The two of you can work through your 'personal stuff'," Ross used finger quotes, "together. Might do you some good to commiserate, and that way those of us here don't have to watch you be sullen and irritable. And in return you can help keep Don on point out there."

Justin swallowed an angry laugh. He really hadn't realized his mood had been so transparent.

"So you want _me_ to go to Tribeca?"

Ross nodded.

"To help Don."

"Mmmmhmmmm," Ross nodded.

"Tribeca the film festival?"

Again, a nod.

"In New York?"

"Yes."

"The one that started yesterday?"

Another nod from Ross.

Justin wanted to say thanks, but no thanks. He wanted to tell Ross that there was no fucking way he was going to go to New York…but he didn't.

"Okay. Sure. I can fly out tonight."

Maybe this was what he needed to do to finally expel Brian from his life? But the thought of being in that city, so close, was terrifying because Justin also wasn't sure he really did want to expel Brian from his life. What he did know was he simply did not want to have to make a choice.

_Shit._

* * *

He called Daphne on his way to the airport. She knew a little of the drama with Aaron, but when Justin told her everything that had happened, all the details beginning with the animation job, then the birthday flowers from Brian, and how Justin had learned about Aaron's duplicity, ending with Aaron's temporary move out of their home she was stunned to silence, only able to mutter – 'that seems so unlike him' – over and over much to Justin's annoyance.

But then when Justin told her he was on his way back to New York for the film festival, she laughed.

"It isn't funny Daphne. I don't know what I'm going to do being so close," he rested his forehead on the glass of the window of the taxi cab.

"Are you going to see him?" she asked in response.

"I don't know. I want to, but I don't want to, too; I'm not going to try and seek him out, but he has a way of turning up when I least expect," he sighed.

"I've been struggling with something for awhile now, and maybe this is the time for me to take control of my life. I think this is the time for me to focus on myself, instead of what man I want to be with. Because no matter if I want Brian back or not, I'm so fucked up and I really think I need to be alone."

"I mean I haven't been alone for years, and I don't even know who I am, really, without Brian or some other guy to identify with. You know? It feels so…lame," he scowled at his own reflection in the dirty taxi window.

"Yeah, I do know. But you're not lame. You just got far too involved with a much older man when you were far too young. I mean, it's really rather amazing you turned out as normal and stable as you are – what with all the fucked up relationships you've had," she laughed, "but then again you did have me for a friend so…"

"Yeah, yeah," Justin huffed a laugh that turned into a long sigh.

"Just send me strength to stay away from him, please Daphne. I really need to get my head straightened out and I know if I see him I'll just get all confused again. He's got this hypnotic power over me and I can't get sucked back into it. Not yet. I need more time."

"Hey, I'll send whatever good vibes I can, but ultimately it's up to you. You need to remember you're doing this for yourself. Because _you_ are the only person you're responsible for making happy and answering too," she replied.

"Thanks Daph," Justin smiled, he felt a little better about this trip, and knowing Daphne was on his side was a relief, too, "I love you."

"I love you too," Daphne replied, "now please try and have some fun and remember, make yourself happy."

* * *

The Tribeca Film Festival had begun April 17th and was running through April 28th. Justin had never been to a film festival before; he'd been to San Diego Comic-Con once, for Rage actually, and swore he'd never go back again. The crowds and hordes of people had sent him into a tailspin of residual PTSD from the bashing. It had been unexpected and jarring and Justin had spent the final two days of the convention in his hotel room or wandering up and down the bike path that ran parallel to the convention center, and his evenings watching the sunset over the Harbor. It was that trip when he discovered the Coronado Hotel; taking the ferry one afternoon over to Coronado Island and walking across the width of it to the hotel and beach where he promised himself to return one day.

The film festival, Justin was thrilled to find out, was nothing like that fucking mess of Comic-Con, but that year it was being held in Chelsea, which Justin was _not_ thrilled to find out.

His taxi drove him past Royals, the bar where he'd seen Brian the last time he'd been in the city, and one block further down it stopped in front of his hotel. Justin sighed to himself – this could be a long ten days. But it turned out he needn't have worried, the film festival was jam packed with screenings and events and Justin knew he could easily give himself no spare time to seek out, or even accidentally run into Brian at the bar down the street.

The thick program booklet Justin had been given when he'd checked in for the festival was overflowing with film choices which could keep Justin occupied from the moment he woke until he decided to go to bed – which was an incredible relief. After Justin tracked down Don and they mapped out the course of the next week and a half, Justin found himself already exhausted and he hadn't even attended a single screening or presentation yet.

The first part of the festival Justin aided Don in representing the company. There were three short films being shown that had been partially produced, and worked on in various other ways, by several of Justin's coworkers, and Don and Justin networked and hob-knobbed relentlessly to try and drum up some distribution interest for them. It was interesting to learn more about that side of the movie business, and because of that Justin found he had almost no time to dwell on his personal problems. He and Don did spend their dinners talking about their individual break-ups, and Justin found it quite humorous how heterosexual couples broke up for most of the exact same reasons gay couples did. He always knew that to be true, but hearing it firsthand was so enlightening. He made a mental note to thank Ross for the trip when he got back, because it was true that talking things out with Don did make Justin feel a bit better – but being out of LA also made him feel better. The conversations he and Don had gave him some clarity and purpose and strengthened his resolve to take care of himself first and forget about what man he might want. He was tired of being defined by who his boyfriend was and he was excited to see what he could accomplish on his own, now that he was older and felt mentally stable and healthy. He was inspired to live his life only for himself.

The last day of the festival, April 28th, Justin showed up at the appointed hour to see his first film of the day. It had been shown three other times throughout the festival and had garnered some interesting buzz that had piqued Justin's interest. It was a gay film, a documentary is what he'd heard, but he didn't know much else about it – purposefully avoiding any of the detailed conversations or the write-ups that were appearing in the various journals, papers, and trades. He wanted to keep his expectations managed because in his experience, most gay films simply never lived up to his hopes.

When he emerged from the theatre two hours later, he wished he'd never gone in, the ache and pain stirring inside almost too much, and nearly sending him into panic attack.

The film itself had been emotionally draining – horrific even – and after having some conversations with others in the audience right afterwards, Justin found he was walking the razors edge of sanity. His imagination was running wild and his emotions were all over the place. He was wound up so tight he thought he might burst if he didn't do…something.

Not quite an hour later and after a frantic and hurried phone call to Lindsay, Justin found himself standing in the hall outside Brian's apartment. His heart was in his throat and he thought he might throw up from the nerves still Justin reached out his hand and knocked. It was late on a Sunday afternoon – he couldn't imagine there'd be a reason Brian wouldn't be home, yet he found himself almost hoping he didn't answer.

The knock seemed loud – too loud – and as its soft echoes faded Justin thought he heard movement behind the door, padded footsteps that would indicate bare feet. Justin's heart, already on the verge of bursting from his chest and launching itself into space, sped up even more and he wondered if anyone had ever had a heart attack or stroke from sheer nervous and excited energy.

His tried to fix his expression into something as neutral as possible and when the door opened, Justin had to double check he was at the right place before he thought maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him.

It wasn't Brian looking back at him but a tall, thin red-head without a shirt on and wearing ratty sweats.

The guy looked back at him first with an expression of slight confusion – his mouth half open as if to ask what he needed – but then Justin saw recognition begin to dawn on his face, and simultaneously recognition also dawned on Justin.

This man staring back at him, the man who had answered Brian's door, was the same guy who had been with Brian at Royals when they'd run into each other back in October. It was the red hair – quite unforgettable.

"Shit. Sorry. Hi," Justin stammered, feeling a blushing heat creep up his neck and face and he felt so embarrassed. What did he think? That Brian would be sitting around pining for him? That he wouldn't have moved on? Though Brian and this guy just didn't seem to make much sense – but what did Justin know? He hadn't been familiar with Brian for almost nine years now…

"Hi," the guy sounded flustered too, unsure, and he looked almost as upset as Justin felt.

"Who is it?" Brian's voice called out from somewhere inside and Justin almost blacked out as all the blood rushed from his head.

He started to shake his head and back away when the red-headed man opened the door a little wider and smiled at him, kind of sadly it appeared to Justin.

"It's Justin," he said quite matter-of-factly, turning slightly to call out over his shoulder to a spot just out of Justin's line of sight.

Justin had no time to consider how this man knew his name and who he was as a silence so loud it was deafening descended upon him. Then Brian appeared, sans shirt and clad only in sweats as well, slightly behind the red-head and his expression, Justin thought, seemed hopeful?

"Hi," Brian's eyes were slightly too wide, and his voice slightly too breathy.

"Hi," Justin swallowed painfully. Seeing Brian again in this state was almost too much. It was one thing to know he'd apparently been with this other guy for all the months since Justin had seen him last, and it was another thing to see them both half-naked and to know they had likely…well…been fucking each other at some point that day.

"Do you want to come in?" Brian moved to stand beside the other man - _they actually looked nice together_, Justin thought briefly – before he saw the other man frown slightly and take a few steps back before disappearing from view completely.

"Uh. Sure," Justin paused, glancing quickly at the retreating back of the red-head before he slowly took a few steps in, hearing Brian close the door behind him.

The red-head reappeared a moment later, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and carrying a leather jacket. His expression was fairly emotionless, but his eyes were incredibly sad. Justin watched him slip on his shoes before he looked at Brian.

"I'm gonna go," he said softly and Justin watched as some sort of intense unspoken communication seemed to pass between them.

"Call me later," he added leaning in a little closer to Brian, like he was going to kiss him, before pulling away quickly. Justin felt sick to his stomach and stared down at his shoes, briefly giving them some semblance of privacy.

"Yeah," Brian said and as Justin raised his head to look at the two of them again, he got a very distinct impression he'd interrupted something important with his arrival.

The man nodded and flashing Justin a stiff but pleasant smile he left without another word, closing the door softly and leaving a confused and emotionally unstable Justin alone with Brian.

"Did I interrupt something?" Justin asked a few moments later, sloughing off his jacket and handing it to Brian when he reached his hand out for it.

"No," Brian shook his head, draping Justin's jacket over the back of the nearest armchair.

Justin wasn't sure he believed him, but he nodded just the same, taking the opportunity to really look around. The mood in the apartment felt eerily similar to Brian's loft – and the furniture and décor, too. It was all the same stark, contemporary style. There wasn't much color – none really – all the furnishings white and shining silver accents and with the streaming rays of sunlight that were coming in through the west-facing windows it was bright and airy. Comfortable.

Justin could feel Brian's stare following him as he turned in a slow circle, taking in the large, open floor-plan, again quite similar to the loft; a large living area and across from that a formal dining area and a large kitchen with all stainless steel appliances. A hallway branched off roughly halfway across the room and led to what Justin guessed were the bedrooms and bathrooms, however many there were. And there had to be at least a few – Brian's was the only place on this floor, meaning he had most if not all of it.

Nearing the completion of his 360o turn, Justin's' eyes landed on a framed 8x10" photo of Brian and Gus sitting on a small table near the front door and he smiled. It was the only thing in the place that was in the least bit personal, that Justin could tell anyway. And seeing them in that photo, side by side, Justin was amazed at how much Gus looked like his father. He'd always thought Gus looked like Brian in the pictures Lindsay would send each year, but he hadn't seen them together since Gus was a toddler and it was jarring how much a replica of Brian, Gus really was.

"So…what are you doing here?" Brian asked, seemingly cautiously.

Faced with explaining himself, Justin found he was at a complete loss for words, but he turned to face Brian, surprised to find he'd pulled on a tank top while Justin's back had been turned.

"I'm in town for the film festival. Tribeca," Justin started, "and I saw a film today that terrified me and then I found myself here…," Justin sighed – his words were failing him and the way he felt inside…he wondered if he'd ever be able to understand, or make Brian understand how primal the instinct had been to come. How intrinsic the need had been to see Brian, to touch him, to...

"Okay?" Brian said slowly, shaking his head.

"It was this documentary. A young man lost his partner in an accident. A fucking freak, tragic accident. After six years together this man's partner dies and sitting there watching this incredibly sad story just made me realize…it got me thinking...," Justin trailed off, lost in the emotion of the movie and it made his entire chest ache horribly and his eyes prick with tears. It was so fucking unfair – life, but Justin had a chance here – and he had to take it.

"It got you thinking...," Brian finally pressed and Justin nodded.

He examined Brian's face. He looked expectant, like he was waiting for something more, but there was no hint of annoyance or irritation that used to accompany his indulgent patience for Justin's ramblings and for some reason, the still unknown reason behind the change in Brian struck an odd fear into Justin's heart, but it also gave him hope. Brian was different now – because the old Brian would never have let Justin get this far without at least a snarky comment – and a different Brian could only be a better Brian, right?

"About you," he finally blurted and Brian nodded once, a small smile playing on his lips; a very decidedly "Brian Kinney" smirk that eased Justin's nerves with its familiarity because while it was nice to know Brian was different, more mature, it was also refreshing to know there was some of what Justin had known of Brian still there, too.

"That's not normal behavior, right? I'm not even with you. Not for years…I'm supposed to be with Aaron, and we're supposed to be getting married. Yet when I thought of being faced with losing someone like this man did in this documentary, I thought of you first."

Justin heaved a shaky breath, "and it nearly killed me to even consider the possibility of a world without you in it."

Justin felt himself losing control. His rambling leaving him breathless and panting while he tried to regain his control. He didn't want to lose it in front of Brian…

"You thought of me," Brian repeated softly, his face unreadable.

"It reminded me of how powerless and terrified I was when I learned you had cancer. How I would have given anything to have taken that pain and fear, that sickness, from you – how I would have done anything to make you well again. It all came back to me in that theatre. A big, fucking tidal wave of emotion that knocked me on my ass. The thought of losing you, and not because we couldn't make it work but because you died... Fuck, Brian. I realized tonight I never stopped loving you in the way that is vital to my very survival. I never stopped yearning for you. Not really. I don't think I ever will, either."

Silence.

"I'm still angry at you, and hurt, but I want to get over it. I want to forgive you. If for no other reason than I need closure. I don't want to regret, someday, not making things right between us - whatever that might mean. And I'm not saying I want you back, but I'm not saying I don't want you back, either. A lot of time has passed. I'm different. You're different-," Justin laughed when Brian arched his eyebrow slightly.

"Okay. Maybe you're the same, too," Justin acquiesced with a half-smile and a shrug, "and I don't know if it's been too long. If we've been separated by too much time - but I want to find out. I feel like maybe I _need_ to find out."

"So...I guess what I'm saying...what I'm asking...am I too late? Does the offer still stand?" Justin smirked slightly, his heart pounding loudly in his chest while he recalled one of his most treasured and precious memories from being with Brian; and Brian must have remembered too, because his cheeks actually flushed pink as he breathed a soft laugh.

"No; you're not too late. And yes, it still stands," Brian rolled his lips into his mouth as he lowered his head slightly and stared at Justin through his thick, straight eyelashes. Justin was immediately bombarded with thousands of memories and feelings and emotions that pulled him in every direction possible, and he welcomed the feeling – it was like coming home again.

Justin very slowly closed the short distance between them, stopping just out of reach.

"So…," Justin raised his eyebrows, "what now?"

Brian laughed softly and shrugged.

"I think I need a drink," Brian said, moving to the kitchen.

It was not what Justin had been expecting – instead he had thought Brian would simply grab him and throw him to the floor, fucking him hard and fast like he'd used too. But instead, he returned a few moments later with a bottle of water which he handed to Justin, and a tumbler full of ice and amber colored liquid that was, from the scent of it, Beam, for himself.

Justin accepted the bottle of water with a nod and they both took drinks, staring at each other awkwardly. Now that Justin had declared his intention, he had no idea what to do next. He knew what he wanted, to feel Brian inside him, but how to make that happen was suddenly a giant question mark. He had been expecting Brian to make the first move, and when he hadn't it had thrown Justin off his game and now he was all out of sorts.

"So who was the guy?" Justin asked as the silence between them grew and he started to fidget under Brian's stare.

"He's no one," Brian moved into the living room and fell onto the long sofa, propping his bare feet up on the glass coffee table; Justin tried not to stare, but he had a thing for Brian's feet…

"He's not no one, Brian," Justin sat in the same armchair that his jacket was draped over the back of, "not when you've been seeing him and fucking him, I assume, since at least October. He _is_ the same guy you were with back in October?"

Brian stared at him, holding his gaze, but when Justin refused to give in, refused to look away and instead challenged Brian with his stare the older man finally sighed.

"His name is Sean. He's…a friend," Brian said with a half-shrug as he downed the rest of his drink in one gulp.

"A friend?"

"Yeah," Brian leaned forward to put the tumbler on the coffee table.

"'Friend' can mean a lot of different things," Justin said carefully, "what does it mean in this case?"

Brian sighed again and Justin could tell he didn't want to talk about this – which only made Justin more desperate to find out what he could.

"What is he to you?" Justin pressed.

"He's just a friend, like I said. A friend and a…a fuck buddy," Brian titled his head slightly and smiled. Justin was somewhat relieved to see he appeared to feel just a little ashamed of the revelation. Still – the thought of Brian having a fuck buddy was just…wrong somehow.

"Since when do you have, or even need, a fuck-buddy?" Justin asked a little confused. It wasn't like Brian would have any trouble getting any guy he wanted. He was as gorgeous as ever – even more so with his slightly shorter hair and his thin but still muscular and toned physique. No, Justin was sure Brian could still trick every night of the week if he wanted – in fact, Justin had been sure that was the lifestyle Brian still employed. Into his forties or not, Brian couldn't have changed that much; or so Justin had thought.

This fuck-buddy business was new and different and…concerning? Odd? A symptom of a much greater issue perhaps? Justin only hoped it wasn't the three-letter affliction…he could only hope Brian wasn't sick…

"He's been around for awhile," Brian shrugged.

"Awhile? Obviously. Though I have to say it looked like you are more than a fuck buddy to him," Justin recalled the image of Sean's sad eyes looking at Brian as he left.

"Well I'm not," Brian said, "even if he'd like me to be."

"Even if he'd like…Jesus, Brian," Justin laughed. This was familiar; this was just like the old Brian; seemingly carelessly toying with other's emotions.

"If you knew he wanted more, how could you keep fucking him while sending me flowers, and getting me animation work? I assume in an attempt to get me back? All the while holding him on the line? That's really messed up, even for you."

"Does Aaron know you're here? And thinking about me instead of him?" Brian said suddenly, with an arched eyebrow and a slightly acerbic tone.

"Don't change the subject," Justin said, growing angry because he knew Brian was right. The circumstances weren't the same, but they'd both apparently been toying with other people's emotions in ways that were definitely not okay.

"I'm just saying. You're here, and it would seem Aaron doesn't know," Brian smirked.

"We're having a rough patch if you must know," Justin said sullenly, glaring at Brian, "and you're avoiding my questions."

"Sorry."

"You're not sorry," Justin laughed.

"True," Brian shrugged and Justin sighed. This was going nowhere, true to Brian Kinney avoidance conventions.

"He called me," Brian said, "Aaron."

"What? When?" Justin felt his stomach drop into his shoes. How much more had Aaron done, or known about, that Justin had any idea of? God, he felt so stupid.

"Last month sometime, a few days after your birthday I think."

"What did he say?" Justin asked, crossing his arms and feeling exposed and defensive and really uncomfortable with the idea of Aaron and Brian, talking, or fighting, or whatever, about him.

"He said I needed to stop sending you flowers and doing nice things for you, like getting you that animation job and getting Molly into her seminar."

"How _did_ you get Molly into that seminar?" Justin asked, wondering how Aaron had known that and he hadn't, not until Lindsay had told him anyway.

"I know the Dean of the School of Architecture. Old friends," Brian said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of course," Justin sighed – though that still didn't answer how Aaron had known and Justin hadn't...

"He told me you were his, and I needed to leave you alone. Basically, he was threatened, and felt the need to call me and stake his claim."

"That's rich of him," Justin murmured.

Brian was refraining from smiling; Justin could tell by the way he was biting his lower lip. He no doubt found it hilarious that Aaron called him to tell him to back off and then boom, Justin showed up a few weeks later on his doorstep declaring…what exactly? The longer this back and forth went on the more confused Justin grew about what he was really doing at Brian's in the first place.

"What happened? Did he get the wrong brand of gourmet coffee or something?" Brian was teasing, but Justin could sense an undercurrent of barely contained resentment in his tone.

"He lied to me. A big one. And I don't know if I can forgive him," Justin said honestly, being met with another arched eyebrow from Brian.

"I don't really want to forgive him," Justin added after a moment's pause.

Brian was sitting forward on the sofa, his elbows on his knees and after Justin spoke he fell to his knees and moved towards Justin and the armchair.

"That's too bad," Brian said, his hands lighting on Justin's knees, slowly moving up his thighs as he inched closer, still on his knees on the floor.

"Bri-," Justin started, but before he could finish Brian's hands were reaching out and grabbing him and pulling him closer and then their mouths were fused, moving gently but with an urgency, too. It was just like Justin remembered, and oh so good.

Justin's hands grabbed at Brian's shoulders, his neck, his head. One hand disappeared into his thick, soft hair while the other slipped beneath the fabric of the tank top to feel the taut muscles of Brian's upper back – the movement of the strong fibers beneath his skin which was hot to the touch.

Justin scooted forward, ready and willing to strip his clothes off and fuck Brian in the very chair he sat in when Brian pulled away, suddenly.

"What?" Justin said, breathless and flushed and leaning forward to try and recapture Brian's lips.

"I can't," Brian sat back on his heels, whispering, "I won't be him."

"Him? Who?" Justin moved towards him again but Brian held up his hands, warding him off before he stood and moved to the other end of the room.

Justin rose slowly from the chair, completely at a loss as to what had just happened. Five months ago Brian was practically begging Justin to stay and now he was turning him away?

"What are you talking about?" Justin started to move across the room, towards him.

"I won't be Ethan," Brian said and that stopped Justin in his tracks.

"What? What did you just say?" Justin's tone was icy cold, the heated desire that had been coursing them him just seconds earlier completely gone and replaced with an unfettered anger so deep it frightened him.

"I won't be the guy you cheat with," Brian said, to Justin it would seem rather regrettably.

"Cheat? Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Justin felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise and his anger transformed into confusion, and amused bewilderment.

Brian grasped Justin's left hand and lifted it up to his face, twisting the ring he still wore on his finger.

"Remember this?"

Justin pulled his hand back and sighed.

"You have to talk to Aaron and decide if this is what you really want because…," Brian's expression screwed up into a scowl and he spun around with a heavy exhale. "Fuck!"

Justin was shocked into silence. Nothing was happening as he'd expected.

"Damn it all, I want you. So much. I want to throw you down on the floor and fuck you til you cry out begging me for relief."

"So do it," Justin whispered, Brian's words, his husky tone, sending shivers through him and arousing him more than Brian's kisses already had moments before.

"You have to end things with him, first," Brian looked incredibly pained as he spoke, and once again Justin had to wonder what in the hell had happened to make him behave so…un-Brian like. "I may regret this the minute you leave but I can't be that guy. Justin, I just can't."

"Why are you being like this?" Justin asked, sincerely curious. It wasn't that he wasn't willing to break things off with Aaron, for good, but the circumstances around Brian's request were just…odd! How was Justin supposed to reconcile the Brian he remembered from nine years ago now, to the Brian standing in front of him?

But Brian only shook his head, a sad smile on his lips.

"Brian," Justin moved forward, suddenly desperate to touch him again.

"No," Brian's jaw clenched and he took a step back.

"Please. Just…end it with him first."

* * *

Justin left Brian's feeling unfulfilled, unsatisfied, and very confused. The fact that Brian cared even one iota about Aaron's feelings made no sense and back at his hotel, Justin paced his room, spinning the ring on his finger as he tried to make sense of Brian's request. The Brian Justin remembered wouldn't have given a flying fuck about being a "cheater", if "cheating" was what Justin had truly wanted. Brian had always been about doing what you want, when you want, and the old Brian wouldn't have turned Justin down in this way…which made the mysterious reasons why he'd made that request now all the more mysterious. What had happened to make Brian change so much?

Whatever it was, Justin was quickly realizing he needed to know. And even if this reunion, or whatever it was, was for only one night it was still more than he'd ever desired from Aaron. And it was only fair to let the other man go now, before he was hurt any further by Justin's behavior, and with that, Justin dialed his soon to be ex-fiancé.

"Hello?" Aaron's voice was cautious, hesitant.

"Hi," Justin was nervous. He didn't want to do this over the phone, but he had no other choice. He wasn't going to leave New York without seeing Brian again, and he certainly wasn't going to leave New York without touching Brian, and being touched by Brian...

"How are you?" Justin asked.

"Fine," Aaron replied, "You?"

"Fine," Justin laid back on the bed in his hotel room. The stilted cadence of their conversation was just another indication of how far they'd fallen, and how much they'd grown apart - and Justin had to wonder how much of it was his own fault for keeping the charade of their relationship going, far past the point of when he should have called it quits.

"Good," Aaron replied, no longer cautious but Justin thought he sounded annoyed; fed up; at the end of his patience for Justin.

"Yeah. Good," Justin repeated, completely at a loss as to how to break the news gently. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Aaron. It was clichéd and it was stupid but it was also true. Yet Justin knew he was going to hurt Aaron. There was no way around it anymore.

Justin sighed; time to rip the band-aid off in one fail swoop.

"What," Aaron said with a heavy sigh of his own, as if he knew the news wasn't going to be good.

"I think...I think we need to take a more permanent break," Justin blurted, "like forever."

He was met with silence.

"Oh," Aaron finally said.

"Can I come over so we can talk about this?" he added, now sounding slightly panicked.

"I'm not home," Justin said carefully.

"Okay, well I can meet you somewhere," Aaron countered.

"No. I mean I'm not even in California right now," Justin covered his eyes with his free arm and sighed quietly to himself. This was going bad, fast.

"Oh," Aaron's tone was surprised, "where are you?"

"Uh, I'm in New York. For work. The film festival. Tribeca," Justin said, feeling compelled to qualify why he was there.

"New York," Aaron laughed and Justin heard the anger in it, "You went to New York and you didn't even tell me. Jesus…Okay. I definitely get it now."

"I'm sorry," Justin replied.

"How long did it take you? To run back to him?" Aaron said, ignoring Justin's apology.

"It's not like that."

"No?"

"No," Justin said sadly. He wanted to explain, wanted to make him understand.

"What's it like then?" Aaron practically spat into the phone.

"I'm not in love with you," Justin said, hating that it had come to this and hating what he was doing to Aaron. "I love you, but I'm not _in_ love with you. I'm not sure if I ever was. But you took care of me, and made me feel safe and I'll always be thankful to you for that," Justin rushed out in one breath.

"Wow," Aaron hissed, his anger quite evident in his voice, "you really are a glutton for punishment. I practically put you back together because of _him_, and you're what, getting back together? Are you moving to New York next? Do you want to give me money for that damned ring so you can pretend it's from him? And don't even try to fucking deny this isn't about Brian."

"I don't know what's going to happen. And this isn't about him."

"Not entirely, anyway," Justin added when Aaron scoffed loudly.

"This is about me, and what makes me happy and yes I saw Brian. But I didn't come here intending to. It's all a fucking mess. I mean, after seeing Brian again in Boston after the hell of those years, and then spending the last few months trying to figure out how it made me feel – how _he_ made me feel – and evaluating my feelings from every fucking angle imaginable, I've realized that simply loving you isn't enough. Not for me. I can't settle for that while knowing - or rediscovering - the way Brian makes me feel. And I'm not saying Brian and I are getting back together, or that I'm moving to New York. Right now none of those things are happening...what I'm saying is I'm choosing me, and I'm letting you go."

"I'm choosing to think of myself first, to make me happy. What happens after that I don't really know," Justin added when he was met with a heavy silence on the other end of the line.

"That is such a crock of shit and you know it," Aaron finally said, sadly, "but I guess you're not my problem anymore, so who gives a fuck what I think, right?"

"Aaron-," Justin wanted to plead, to further explain that it was better this way, that Aaron would find true happiness with someone else, someone who would love him the way he deserved to be loved – the way Justin loved Brian.

"No. Just leave it, okay?" Aaron sighed, "I'll have all my stuff gone from the house before you get back. When will you be back?"

"Tomorrow," Justin whispered.

"Tomorrow. Fine. You'll never know I was there."

"Aaron-."

"No, Justin. Just...no," Aaron said and Justin heard it in his voice - he was already gone, already done with all of it and there was nothing Justin could say to ease the pain he was feeling. Justin wondered if Aaron had really been as in love with him as he'd professed; if he was able to give up that easily. Or, the less pleasant thought that crossed Justin's mind was that he'd simply hurt the other man far too much to be allowed to do any more damage – and Justin sincerely hoped that wasn't the case, though he suspected it was.

"This has been brewing for awhile. I've been expecting it, actually. But there's not much I can do about it. I just want you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted," Aaron added, seeming to read Justin's train of thought.

"Me too," Justin said softly, feeling overcome with emotion for the first time since the conversation had begun, his eyes stinging with tears and a lump forming in his throat. Whether he was "in love" with Aaron or not, they had spent years together building and planning for a life that Justin had thought would be his "happy ever after". Seeing that disappear, even while knowing it was the right thing to do, was incredibly hard and painful.

"Can I just ask you one thing?" Justin added.

"What," Aaron said, not angrily but simply as if Justin was a stranger, and that was almost worse.

"How did you know about Molly's seminar? And that Brian was responsible for the animation work I did?"

Aaron laughed then, and to Justin it sounded pitying and resentful.

"I'm not an idiot, Justin," he said, "I actually got a text from Molly about the seminar. She was told by her professor, or whatever, that Brian – her 'old family friend' – had gotten her in. She didn't know if she should tell you and so she told me. I decided not to share the news. As for the animation work; when you told me about it I simply looked up the company online and saw that Kinnetik was their ad agency. Not too difficult to figure out. Though why you didn't tell me about it I can only guess."

Justin ignored the veiled barb that was Aaron's last sentence, instead focusing on the fact this his sister was now complicit in this game; and that Aaron had lied to him, again. But it didn't matter anymore. It was over and it wasn't worth getting angry about - though Justin was going to give Molly a piece of his mind, later.

"Fine," Justin sighed, "do you want your ring back?"

"No. Pawn it, sell it, throw it in the garbage," Aaron said stiffly, "I don't give a fuck anymore."

And then he was gone. The line was dead, and Aaron was out of his life. It was bittersweet, and Justin didn't know whether to be happy, or sad, or angry, or what. It was true what he'd told Aaron. He didn't know what the future held - and he wasn't planning to simply uproot his life in LA and move blindly to New York. He was still trying to figure out what it was he wanted, and what it was he needed. Plus, that was something he'd have to talk to Brian about...and that thought in itself was daunting, because talking to Brian could be...well...difficult under the best circumstances.

Justin simply hoped he wasn't making a huge mistake.

* * *

"Why'd you make me do that? Why do care about Aaron's feelings?" Justin stood at Brian's door. It was 10pm and Justin had just returned after his lengthy and painful conversation with Aaron. And Brian's behavior was just weird. Half the time he seemed like his old self – or rather the self Justin recalled from those years ago – but the other half of the time wasn't like himself…he was different and it wasn't bad – just weird. Jarring.

"I didn't make you do anything," Brian said.

"Stop playing games! Jesus! Just answer the question!" Justin crossed his arms and stared at Brian expectantly.

"I don't care about Aaron," Brian simply said, "I care about you."

"Me, I don't…," Justin shook his head, confused. What was Brian doing?

"That was for you," Brian said, "you would have made yourself crazy with guilt if we'd done anything while you were still stringing Aaron along. So yeah, it was for you."

"Okay," Justin leveled his gaze at Brian, "did you end things with Sean?"

"Yes," Brian said plainly.

"When? While I was gone?" Justin was surprised, he thought he might have to demand the same of Brian but it seemed the older man was one step ahead of him.

"No. Earlier."

"Earlier? Before I showed up?"

Brian nodded.

"Before you had any idea of if you'd ever see me again?"

Brian nodded again, a tiny smile playing on his lips, like he knew what was coming and was waiting patiently for Justin to get there too…

It took only a moment's hesitation before Justin was launching himself at Brian, his hands clawing at Brian's body, roughly pulling and tearing at the tank top Brian still wore before he managed to get it pulled over his head.

Their breathing was matched, coming in hard bursts as their mouths explored each other, trading off with tasting faces, lips, neck, and then Brian was pulling at Justin's shirt, the buttons flying across the room as he ripped it off without a care.

Brian's hands were then scrambling with Justin's belt and then his pants were gone, down around his ankles and Brian had his cock in his hand, pulling and squeezing it while his lips and tongue traveled and tasted every inch of Justin's neck and chest.

Justin was beside himself, the sensations of Brian's touch, his lips, more than he could stand and making him insane with the need to get closer, to feel more of him – all of him. He worked frantically to pull down Brian's sweats, not at all surprised to find he wasn't wearing anything else beneath, and that he was already hard as a rock. His lips found Brian's again and he felt Brian smile against his kisses as Justin grabbed his cock and pulled at it, running his thumb over the slit and using his fluid as lube to stroke him.

"Turn around," Brian groaned against Justin's mouth, and Justin laughed softly before turning and pressing himself up against the now closed door. He heard, and felt, Brian move away for a moment before the sound of a condom packet tearing hit his ears and then Brian was back pressed up against him, his lips on Justin's shoulders while his fingers pressed and prodded, prepping his ass. Not a moment later Justin felt the tip of him pressing in, gently but with implied urgency, while Brian breathed hot and wet against his neck.

"Do it," Justin groaned, reaching up and grabbing at Brian's hair pushing his ass back against Brian and feeling him start to slide slowly into him.

With a soft groan, Brian pushed further into Justin and as he did all the memories came flooding back, all the times that had been just like this – fast and up against a wall – Brian thrusting into him, the sensations so much Justin could hardly stand it. In that moment there was nothing between them, no time, no space, no ex-boyfriends; there was nothing but sweet, sweet pleasure and Justin wanted nothing but for that feeling to never leave him again.

The first push was slow, and as Justin adjusted to the fading pain and the breathtaking fullness of Brian inside him, Brian started to move. Exquisite pleasure replaced any lingering pain and Justin let his head fall forward against the door, his breathing rough and labored as he struggled to contain himself. Brian's hands were on him, one on Justin's chest feeling him all over and squeezing his nipples, the other on his cock squeezing and pulling and sending him fast and furiously towards the crest of the wave he was riding. Soon Justin was telling him not to stop, to do it faster, to fuck him faster, to squeeze and pull him faster and before he could stop it he was coming, exploding against the door with a shuddering sigh and collapsing back into Brian as he pushed deep into Justin and then came with his own shuddering groan, his hands grabbing hard at Justin's hips while he pressed his mouth to the back of Justin's ear, his cock buried to the hilt in Justin's ass while he filled the condom.

It was fast, and manic, and the both came hard and quick – like they'd been deprived of any sexual release for years. And for Justin it was just about the perfect way to reacquaint himself with Brian.

"Fuck," Brian said, his arms still holding Justin to him.

Justin could feel him starting to soften and it was with a regretful groan that he felt Brian slip away and suddenly the space between them was there once more.

"I made a mess on your door," Justin said with a laugh a few moments later.

"That's fine," Brian still held on to Justin though his cock was now flaccid and pressed against his ass. With a soft kiss to the nape of his neck he let him go and Justin heard him move back a few steps, "I'll clean it up later."

Justin turned to face Brian, kicking his pants away and grinning at him, feeling a stirring arousal in his groin as his eyes took in the other man, the harsh shadows cast by the only light in the large room – a floor lamp by the armchair. It was like he'd noticed in Boston – Brian was thinner, but still as muscular and toned as he'd ever been. Not a hint of flab anywhere and it was like going back in time to that very first night Brian had brought him home with him, and Justin had been allowed to appreciate the beauty of the man's body for the first of many, many times.

"Can we take this to the bedroom? Or," Justin grinned, "maybe the shower first?"

Brian smiled, but something in it was a bit unnerving and Justin felt his own smile slip slightly from his face.

"What?" He asked, a little scared – no – a _lot_ scared. After resisting for so long, and finally giving in and letting Brian back into his heart, he was fucking terrified of the words that might come out of Brian's mouth next.

"Shower," was all he said.

While Justin still felt a tiny, niggling fear in his belly, he also felt incredible relief and when Brian turned to head to the bathroom, Justin followed happily.

The shower though – it wasn't what Justin had been expecting. When he followed Brian into the large, tiled shower he was surprised when instead of dropping to his knees to suck Justin off, Brian simply soaped up a washcloth and proceeded to gently and carefully wash Justin thoroughly, from head to toe. It may not have been sexual in nature but it was fucking erotic as anything and by the time Brian was done massaging and washing his calves and feet Justin was rock hard and aching to feel Brian inside him again.

But it was only fair for Justin to return the favor, though when he tried to reach out and claim the washcloth Brian simply pulled him close, kissed him hard and long and then gently nudged him out to the bedroom.

"I'll be out in just a few minutes," Brian nodded and while Justin heard an odd sort of sadness in his tone, he obliged him but not before taking on more long, hard look at his entire body, he might have been covered in soapy suds with water running over him but he was hard, too, and Justin knew when he joined him in bed that he'd get what he needed – again.

True to his word, Brian came out of the bathroom not even three minutes later. Justin was lying on the bed on his side, head propped on his arm, simply waiting.

"Hey," Justin smiled, his gut twisting painfully at the sight of Brian, dripping wet and moving with the sanguinity of a cat as he knelt on the edge of the bed and slowly crawled towards him.

Justin rolled onto his back as Brian overtook him, his long body resting comfortably on top of Justin. It felt so good, so right; like no time had passed at all – Justin was relieved to find they still fit together like this.

"Hey," Brian whispered back, his lips just millimeters away.

Lifting his head slightly, Justin captured Brian's mouth with his and they kissed soft, and slow, and gentle. His hands gripped at Brian's back, tracing soft lines up and down while feeling the muscles as they moved beneath his skin. Justin would never tire of the feel of Brian's musculature beneath his fingertips. Brian's hands in return played in the thickness of Justin's damp hair, twirling and threading and massaging his scalp as they continued to kiss and refamiliarize themselves with the taste and feel and touch of the other. They remained like that for awhile; just kissing and touching, Brian's body weight oddly reassuring, making Justin feel safe.

"Fuck me," Justin finally whispered, unable to stand the hard press of Brian's cock against his leg and nibbling Brian's ear he spread his legs while lifting his hips against Brian.

Brian said nothing as he met Justin's advances and then they were as one again, no space between them as they connected once again in the way that had always worked for them, even when nothing else did.

After, they were lying side by side on the bed, Justin's sweat evaporating and causing goose bumps to pop up over his entire body.

"What are you doing here?" Brian asked quietly.

"What do you mean?" Justin countered, cautious. Brian sounded odd again, his tone slightly angry, but also sad. Justin simply wished Brian would say what he meant.

"I mean, what are you doing here?" Brian repeated, and Justin heard more anger, more frustration this time.

"I told you -," Justin started.

"Yeah, yeah. You saw a movie, it freaked you out, blah blah blah," Brian said, and Justin was surprised by the bitterness in his tone.

"What's wrong with you?" Justin leaned up on his elbows and looked at Brian. The older man was lying on his back, his hands resting on his abdomen and his eyes were staring straight up at the ceiling.

"Do you intend to stay here, now? In New York? Or are you going back to LA and I'll never see you again?"

"I really hadn't thought about it," Justin replied and it was true. He hadn't thought about it; after leaving the screening of that documentary he hadn't been thinking more than five minutes ahead, knowing only that he _needed_ to see, and feel, and touch Brian. Now he had, and now came the time for all the complicated questions about what came next. Though Justin was surprised it was Brian bringing these things up.

"Well fucking think about it," Brian said loudly and angrily before he rose quickly from the bed and retreating to the adjoining bathroom, leaving Justin to wonder what in the hell was going on?

Brian came out of the bathroom a few minutes later looking apologetic.

"What's going on with you?" Justin asked before Brian had another chance to speak, or yell, or whatever.

"I'm here, isn't that what all that stuff was about the last few months? Isn't this what you wanted? Me, here, in your bed? Isn't that why you got Molly into that seminar, why you got me that animation work, why you sent me those flowers?" Justin sat up in the bed, crossing his legs.

"Why are you mad at me now?" Justin added.

"I'm not. It's…nothing. It's nothing," Brian shook his head and returned to the bed, sitting cross legged across from Justin and while he tried to appear nonchalant, Justin could see him struggling with something and he just wanted to know what the hell it was.

"Is it Sean?" Justin asked, so very curious about the man and dying to ask Brian a million questions about him but a little nervous to do so at the same time. The man had been intimately familiar with Brian's body, more than any one night stand trick would ever be. That was a privilege Justin had previously been the only one to hold, and knowing he'd fucked Sean, maybe even made love to him, on more than one occasion hurt Justin deeply. He knew it shouldn't, and that he had no real right to feel that way – Brian had been free to do whatever he wanted – he still did feel it, and seeing the haunted look of sadness that had been in Sean's eyes earlier in the day didn't help, because Justin thought maybe Sean was the kind of guy he might have been friends with, in another life.

"No," Brian shook his head, but the conviction and certainty he usually had in his voice was absent, and Justin wasn't sure he believed him anyway.

"Who is he?" Justin asked, pressing ever so gently, mindful of Brian's propensity to run away when pressured, but also mindful that this Brian before him now was different. More tolerant – and more honest, Justin hoped.

"He's a guy," Brian said.

"How did you meet him? When did you meet him?"

"We met a few years ago. We were both going through some stuff, and we helped each other. That's it," Brian sighed, but he answered Justin's question nonetheless.

It wasn't much of an answer or explanation, but Justin knew from previous experience that getting information out of Brian was sometimes like pulling teeth.

"Some stuff?"

"Yes. Stuff," Brian leaned forward then, kissing Justin's neck and forcing him down onto his back.

Justin went, accepting for the moment Brian's vague answer and knowing that the kissing was his way to say the conversation was over. But Justin wasn't going to let it go so easily. He planned to ask him again, about Sean. But for the moment he would simply relish the feel of Brian on top of him, the familiar feel of his weight, of his hands, of his lips…Justin wrapped his arms around Brian and he rolled them both over so he was now lying on top of Brian.

"I've missed this. I just never knew how much," Justin murmured, lips tenderly nibbling along Brian's chin, down his neck, to his chest.

He let his hands feel and explore Brian's body, so familiar yet also different, and new. His hands traced lightly over his body, catching on his chest hair and lightly grazing his erect nipples. Justin could hear Brian's breathing grow labored as he continued to explore his body, moving slowly down his torso. Raising his eyes, Justin smiled to himself at the sight of him, eyes half-closed and mouth slightly agape. Justin was breathing softly, and the feel of Brian's hands on his back were soft and tender; he was tracing large circles on Justin's skin as Justin stopped his ministrations for a moment to press his ear to Brian's chest, listening to his heart beat. Justin had missed him – so fucking much and far more then he had even realized.

Justin let his fingers dance lazily on Brian's abdomen and he breathed a soft laugh as the older man flinched beneath him when his fingertips grazed his navel.

"Careful Sunshine, you'll wake the beast again," Brian murmured, his hands caressing Justin's head, shoulders, back.

"Promise?" Justin purred as he lifted his head to look up and into Brian's hazel eyes, pupils dilated so wide it was like staring into deep black pools of lust and passion.

Brian had called him Sunshine, and if Justin wasn't so fucking horny he might have burst into tears at the sound of that word coming from Brian. But there was no time for sentimentality, and Justin wasn't sure Brian would appreciate it anyway, not even the "new and improved" Brian.

Justin was continually marveled at Brian's handsomeness; hell, Justin would argue he was more beautiful now than when they'd first met. He had a few lines around his eyes, and some graying at his temples but fuck was it hot – it only added to the allure of him. Justin stared at his face, he took in every wrinkle, every pock mark, every tiny scar that marked some moment in the life of Brian Kinney. They weren't imperfections to Justin (though Brian likely thought differently), but rather all beautiful pieces of the puzzle that made up the likeness of this man. No one had ever, in all of Justin's years of dating and tricking, compared to the raw beauty that Brian not only exhibited, but exuded with his confidence and arrogance. Even lying naked in bed, saying not a word, he was the most powerful and charismatic man Justin could recall ever seeing – and he knew that would never change, no matter how "mild-mannered" Brian might become.

Brian's grip tightened just a bit, then, and Justin wondered if Brian was holding on to him, figuratively and literally, as tightly as he was holding on to Brian – desperate for that magical connection that had brought them together that first night, desperate to feel that spark of life that they seemed to give to each other. Suddenly Justin wanted him - more than he could remember ever wanting him before. The surge of emotional yearning and need was so strong he thought it might make him burst into tears.

Pressing soft kisses to his chest Justin resumed his ministration, slowly moving down Brian's body towards his navel and the short, somewhat manicured tuft of black hair from which sprung his now semi-hard cock. Justin heard Brian groaning softly as his tongue danced lightly across his skin.

Nearing his target Justin looked up at him, basking in the soft lights of the city coming in the floor-to-ceiling windows and his heart nearly broke from the love that coursed through me. This was right. This was real. This was true. Justin couldn't think of a single reason why he'd resisted Brian for so long. He didn't know why he thought he ever could live, and love, happily with anyone else.

Moving lower, Justin nipped at Brian's hips, grinning at the sight of his now fully hard cock – beautiful and thick and begging for Justin to pay it some attention. Justin smiled to himself and rose slightly, poised above him and ready to take him in his mouth when he saw it.

The scar.

But something about it was wrong. It was an angry, harsh red, like it was recent; and it was…fuck! It was on the wrong side. Justin felt his stomach turn violently as he shifted his eyes to Brian's other hip and saw a matching scar, but a much softer pink in color. It was faded; because it was the one from before.

Justin looked up the length of Brian's long, lean body to find him staring back, expectantly but also with sadness around his eyes.

Justin was definitely not in the mood anymore, and he moved up the bed until he was lying next to Brian, their heads on the same pillow.

"Was this why you never came to LA?" Justin asked, not accusing, but sincerely concerned that Brian had gone through all that shit, again, but this time alone.

But Brian simply shook his head.

"When, then?" he asked, draping his arm across Brian's torso, desperate for contact; as if that would somehow be enough to make up for his absence when Brian would have needed him most.

"A few years ago," Brian answered, turning his head to look at Justin. Justin inched closer, pressing his forehead to Brian's and feeling the soft puff of his breath on his face.

Justin sighed before leaning in to kiss him gently.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here," Justin whispered, his lips pressed to Brian's and his hand moving up Brian's body to cup his cheek and stroke his jaw.

"Don't," Brian replied, shaking his head ever so slightly while his hand softly rubbed up and down the arm Justin had draped across him.

"It wasn't as bad the second time. At least I knew what to expect," Brian turned his head and stared up at the ceiling.

"But you were alone," Justin whispered and to his surprise, Brian shook his head.

"No. I actually stayed with Lindsay for most of it. After the surgery and during the radiation. Thank God for her. Though I think it was a little rough for Gus."

Justin couldn't imagine it, didn't want to imagine it. That poor kid.

"When I told her about it," Brian continued, "she offered to have another baby for me."

"I couldn't, though. I couldn't have another kid only to watch him or her grow up apart from me. It's hard enough with Gus."

"So you didn't do it," Justin prompted and when Brian shook his head Justin's heart broke for him.

"Nope," he said and Justin felt his eyes prick painfully with tears. The thought that there would never be another Brian Kinney baby somehow seemed wrong.

"Fuck. Brian. I should ha-," Justin started, but Brian kissed him silent.

He should have been here, Justin wanted to say; if he had been around maybe Brian would have had another kid and maybe they would be raising him, or her, together. Now the option wasn't even there to be had. It was simply gone, forever.

"I'm surprised no one told me," Justin said instead when they broke apart, pushing away his emotions. Brian didn't need him crying all over him...besides there was no going back. What was done, was done. There was no use being upset about it.

"No one knew but Lindsay, and I threatened her with death if she told. And I was already living in New York and since I wasn't really talking to the old gang anymore...," he replied.

"And then you met Sean," Justin concluded, feeling Brian nod. They had helped each other through some stuff…

It made sense, now. The way Brian had reacted with his cancer diagnosis the first time – of course with a second diagnosis he'd institute a fuck buddy rather than trick constantly and run the risk unwanted questions and attention to the scars on his body. Because going without sex would not be a reasonable option for Brian, and being seen as anything less than perfect was even less of an option.

Justin moved even closer, laying his upper body across Brian's chest and wrapping one arm tightly around his waist while the other went to his head, cradling it.

At least he was alive now. Alive and well and...

"You're okay now?" Justin asked, trying to mask his panicked fear and keeping his face pressed against Brian's skin, certain if he looked him in the eye Brian would see the guilt and fear and pity and Justin knew Brian would hate to see any of that.

"So far so good," Brian answered after a moment, and Justin felt him press a kiss to the top of his head.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**If you think Justin gave in to Brian too easily...just wait. There's still TWO more chapters coming. And more information will be revealed.**

**Other notes for this chapter:**

**The information about the Tribeca Film Festival is accurate and true. You can see the 2013 program and films online still, /assets/Film_Guide_ . **

****The documentary I mentioned here was one of two things that inspired me to write this story. It's called Bridegroom. and if you have Netflix (US only, probably) you can stream it. It's likely available to get from Amazon, iTunes, and maybe even Hulu (I haven't checked). I recommend it, though it is incredibly sad. The fact that the man's partner dies is not a spoiler - it's explained in the first five minutes of the documentary that it happened. What's interesting is the journey of the two men, and what happens after the one man's death. That's all I'll say about it - but - check it out if you can. **

**Thank you so much for reading and commenting!**


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